• 


MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

FANCIES,  FASHIONS,  AND  FADS 
THE  MERRY  PAST 

EDITED  BY  RALPH  NEVILL 

THE    LIFE    AND     LETTERS     OF 
LADY  DOROTHY  NEVILL 


KOYAI,  WEDDING   GROU 

21ST   MARCH,    1863 


MAYFAIR    AND 
MONTMARTRE 

BY 

RALPH  NEVILL 


AUTHOR    OP 

"TUB  MERRY  PAST,"  «TC.,  ETC. 


WITH  EIGHT  ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORK 

E.  P.  DUTTON  AND  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

I,  VICTORIAN  DAYS    .....          i 
II.  THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       .  .  .21 

III.  THE  'EIGHTIES       .  .  .  .  .44 

IV.  SOCIAL  CHANGES    ...  .65 
V.  ROUND  BERKELEY  SQUARE            .                        .        83 

VI.  THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR  .  .  .  .98 

VII.  THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON       .  .  .116 

VIII.  BOHEMIAN  DAYS     .  .  .  .  .140 

IX.    PARIS   AFTER  THE   WAR       .  .  .  l6l 

X.  CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT       .  .  .  .182 

XI.    MONTMARTRE  .....         2OI 

XII.  FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR  .  .  *      223 

INDEX         .  .  .  «     .       .  .      245 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

ROYAL  WEDDING  GROUP,  aisx  MARCH  1863     .       Frontispiece 

From  a  photograph  by  Mayall  &•  Co. 

FACING  PAGE 

AN  EARLY  VICTORIAN  DINNER-PARTY     .  .  .46 

From  "Birds-eye  Views  of  Modern  Seciety?  by  Richard  Deylt 

A  FAIR  LONDONER  .„_  .  .  .82 

Fr»m  a  photograph  by  Malcolm  Arluthnct 

BERKELEY  SQUARE  .....         92 

From  a  scarce  print 

SHEPHERD  MARKET          .  ....       106 

From  a  photograph 

A  FAIR  PARISIENNE         .  .  .  .          -.166 

From  a  photograph 

THE  MOULIN  ROUGE       .  .  .  .  .214 

After  the  Painting  by  F.  Giusto 

THE  DEMON  OF  NOTRE  DAME     .  .  .  .       242 

Fr«m  a  photograph  ty  Crftt  (Neurdtin),  Parit 


MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 


VICTORIAN  DAYS 

EVERY  age — every  decade — has  its  own  peculiar 
atmosphere,  for  the  most  part  very  dimly 
realized  by  those  who  live  in  it. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  easy-going  Victorian  Era 
differed  very  materially  from  that  of  to-day,  not  merely 
because  the  war  has  disorganized  everything  and  every- 
body, but  because  existence  was  then  strongly  permeated 
by  customs  and  traditions  which  have  totally  vanished. 

The  West  End,  and  in  particular  Mayfair,  was  still 
supreme  in  politics.  The  aristocracy,  whilst  their  privi- 
leges had  been  curtailed,  continued  to  enjoy  great  power 
in  social  matters,  and  though  no  longer  as  wealthy  as  in 
former  days,  for  the  most  part  were  not  obliged  to  go 
into  the  City  or  into  trade. 

Queen  Victoria,  leading  a  decorous,  dull,  and  more  or 
less  secluded  life,  enjoyed  a  position  to  which  no  parallel 
at  present  exists. 

Highly  respected  at  home  and  abroad,  her  influence, 
in  an  unobtrusive  but  effective  way,  extended  far  beyond 
the  confines  of  the  British  Empire,  and  was  an  imper- 
ceptible though  stable  guarantee  of  peace. 

For  a  period  up  to  1865  England  was  incontestably 
the  greatest  Power  in  Europe  and  in  the  World.  The 
consolidation  of  the  United  States  and  the  establish- 
ment of  the  German  Empire  in  some  slight  degree 
impaired  this  supremacy,  but  up  to  the  very  end  of  her 

T  I 


2          MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

reign  the  old  Queen  enjoyed  an  unequalled  share  of 
authority. 

In  old  age  it  was  difficult  to  realize  that  her  little 
unobtrusive,  though  dignified,  figure  had  been  associated 
with  countless  scenes  of  pomp  and  pageantry,  including 
a  coronation  which  had  been  quite  theatrical. 

According  to  the  account  given  in  the  Morning  Post, 
in  the  finest  theatre  in  the  world  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  have  arranged  anything  capable  of  producing 
the  same  effect. 

The  Westminster  boys  hailed  the  Queen  with  noisy 
shouts  of  "  Regina  Victoria."  The  Times,  which  de- 
voted thirty-three  columns  to  the  ceremony,  stated 
that  a  more  murderous  scream  of  recognition  was  never 
before  heard  by  civilized  ears. 

The  newspapers  on  this  occasion  outdid  all  previous 
efforts  in  publication,  an  evening  paper  called  the  Sun 
even  publishing  a  special  Coronation  number,  price  six- 
pence, printed  in  gold. 

The  modern  Sun,  it  is  curious  to  note,  was  the  only 
evening  paper  to  appear  on  the  day  of  the  Queen's 
funeral. 

In  those  days  the  attitude  of  the  West  End  towards 
the  Press  was  not  always  friendly.  Mayf air  had  a  dread 
of  its  doings  getting  into  the  papers. 

The  editor  of  the  Observer,  Mr  Dowling,  wishing  to 
take  a  view  of  the  procession  from  the  roof  of  Apsley 
House,  having  applied  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington  for 
permission,  received  the  following  reply  : — 

"  Field  Marshal  the  Duke  of  Wellington  has  received 
a  letter  signed  Vincent  Dowling.  The  Duke  has  no 
knowledge  of  the  letter,  neither  is  he  interested  in  any 
way  in  the  Observer  newspaper. 

"  Apsley  House  is  not  a  public  building,  but  the  Duke's 
private  residence,  and  he  declines  to  allow  any  stranger 
to  go  upon  the  roof." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Globe  announced  that  one  noble 


VICTORIAN  DAYS  3 

lord  had  been  detected  advertising  an  order  of  admission, 
which  had  been  presented  to  him,  for  sale. 

The  ticket  was  stopped,  and  the  twenty-five  guineas 
paid  for  it  had  to  be  refunded. 

When  the  Prince  of  Wales  grew  to  man's  estate  the 
attitude  of  Society  towards  the  Press  considerably 
softened.  Unequalled  at  saying  and  doing  the  right  thing, 
he  smoothed  away  many  social  asperities,  while  his 
beautiful  young  wife,  who  as  Queen  Alexandra  happily 
still  survives,  won  all  hearts  from  her  marriage  day. 

The  wedding  at  Windsor,  on  2ist  March  1863,  was  a 
very  fine  affair.  Queen  Victoria  was  very  anxious  that 
an  old  shoe  should  be  thrown  at  the  pair  at  their  departure, 
and  the  Lord  Chamberlain  accordingly  furnished  himself 
with  a  beautiful  white  satin  slipper,  presented  for  the 
occasion  by  the  Duchess  of  Brabant.  Alas,  when  the 
hour  arrived  his  courage  failed  him  and  no  slipper 
was  thrown. 

Even  amid  the  wedding  festivities  the  memory  of  her 
beloved  consort  seems  to  have  taken  the  first  place  in 
the  Queen's  mind,  for,  dressed  in  deep  mourning,1  she  was 
photographed  gazing  at  Prince  Albert's  bust,  the  newly- 
wedded  couple,  seemingly  rather  embarrassed,  standing 
close  by. 

Queen  Victoria,  by  all  accounts,  had  not  a  very  great 
sense  of  humour,  nevertheless  she  has  been  credited  with 
making  a  joke.  On  the  birth  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  it 
is  said  the  bulletin  ran :  "  Her  Majesty  and  the  Prince 
are  perfectly  well."  When  this  was  shown  to  the  Queen 
by  Prince  Albert,  previous  to  its  publication,  she  said  with 
a  laugh  :  "  My  dear,  this  will  never  do."  "  Why  not  ?  " 
asked  the  Prince.  "  Because,"  replied  the  Queen,  "  it 
conveys  the  idea  that  you  were  confined  also."  Prince 
Albert  was  a  little  dumbfounded,  but  the  bulletin  was 
altered  to :  "  Her  Majesty  and  the  infant  Prince  are 
perfectly  well." 

1  See  frontispiece. 


4          MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

On  the  occasion  of  an  heir  to  the  throne  being  born, 
it  was  the  custom  to  fire  guns  at  the  Tower  and  in  the 
Park,  and  it  being  suggested  that  the  Park  guns  should 
not  fire  lest  the  noise  should  disturb  Her  Majesty,  the 
latter  said  :  "  Oh  !  no,  let  them  fire  :  I  should  like  to 
hear  them."  As  she  showed  on  many  occasions,  Queen 
Victoria  did  not  suffer  from  nerves. 

Most  royalties  have  a  peculiar  kind  of  naive  simplicity, 
from  which  the  Empress  of  India  was  not  entirely  exempt. 

Speaking  of  Cecil  Rhodes,  who  had  just  paid  a  visit 
to  Windsor,  she  said  :  "  People  declare  he  is  not  polite 
to  women  ;  all  I  can  say  is,  he  wasn't  rude  to  me." 

Great  formality  prevailed  at  Victorian  Court  enter- 
tainments, at  which,  according  to  a  certain  section  of 
the  Press,  Art,  Science,  and  Literature  were  scarcely 
allowed  adequate  representation. 

Describing  a  ball  at  Buckingham  Palace  in  1858  a 
critic  said  :  "  Peering  attentively  through  the  glitter  and 
glare  of  the  scene,  we  can  discern  among  the  gay  throng 
ministers  of  state,  members  of  parliament,  a  few  men  of 
science — very  few — a  painter  or  two — not  more,  certainly 
— and  we  were  going  to  say  some  literary  men,  but  the 
only  persons  of  that  class  we  can  detect  are  Lord 
Macaulay,  looking  very  cross  and  bored ;  Disraeli,  very 
pale  and  flaccid,  with  his  sword  between  his  legs ;  and 
Sir  Bulwer  Lytton,  admiring  his  diamond  buckles  and 
trying  to  remember  the  names  and  geographical  position 
of  the  colonies  which  he  governs.  Of  course  he  can't. 
No,  the  Queen  does  not  invite  literary  men.  There  is 
a  painter,  though — Sir  Edwin  Landseer ;  he  has  been 
up  this  morning  making  a  sketch  of  the  Princess  Alice's 
new  puppy,  and  now  he  has  his  reward.  The  M.C.  gives 
him  shrivelled  wall-flowers  to  dance  with  at  the  further 
end.  Here  is  a  sight !  Lord  Palmerston,  Lord  John, 
Mr  Disraeli,  Mr  Walpole,  and  the  Duke  of  Malakoff  all 
talking  together  in  a  corner.  The  posse  breaks  up 
presently,  and  the  pudgy  little  Duke  strolls  up  towards 


VICTORIAN  DAYS  5 

royalty.  Lord  Palmerston  takes  a  seat,  Lord  John 
sidles  out  into  an  ante-room  to  go  home,  and  the  Tory 
colleagues  are  left  talking  until  the  next  quadrille,  when 
Mr  Disraeli  takes  out  Mrs  Walpole,  and  Mr  Walpole  does 
the  like  by  Mrs  Disraeli.  The  Queen  retires  soon  after 
supper,  and  the  dancing  goes  on  with  a  little  more 
spirit." 

Though  the  Court  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  very 
intellectual  or  artistic,  from  a  moral  point  of  view  it  was 
absolutely  above  suspicion. 

To  foreigners  it  seemed  really  miraculous  that,  in  a 
country  which  was  governed  by  a  Queen,  and  one  who  had 
inherited  the  crown  at  an  early  age,  there  had  never  been 
any  question  of  Court  or  other  intrigues  which  influenced 
the  conduct  of  public  affairs.  This  may  have  been  merely 
by  accident,  or  partly  owing  to  the  coldness  of  the  blood 
which  runs  in  the  veins  of  English  women.  Nevertheless, 
the  latter  had  been  vivacious  enough  in  the  olden  times, 
when  the  ladies  of  Whitehall  made  history  in  as  shameless 
a  manner  as  any  of  their  sex  had  done  in  the  Tuileries 
or  at  Versailles.  Whatever  the  cause,  it  had  been  re- 
served for  the  nineteenth  century  to  create  a  Woman's 
Court,  which  excluded  all  love-intrigues,  female  inter- 
ference, quarrels  and  corruption. 

In  France  such  a  thing  would  have  been  impossible, 
consequently  the  Queen  of  England  and  her  entourage 
were  always  something  of  a  puzzle  to  the  French,  who 
did  not  understand  how  such  a  state  of  affairs  could 
exist. 

Queen  Victoria  adequately  reflected  the  average  English 
attitude  towards  music  and  art. 

Obvious  sentiment  strongly  appealed  to  her,  and, 
frankly  indifferent  to  the  daedalian  discords  of  the 
Wagnerian  school,  above  all  things  she  liked  a  good  tune. 

Hearing,  on  one  occasion,  the  band  of  the  Royal  Horse 
Guards  playing  a  medley  on  the  terrace  at  Windsor, 
she  was  so  much  pleased  with  a  certain  tune  as  to  com- 


6          MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

mand  a  repetition,  at  the  same  time  expressing  a  wish 
to  know  its  name. 

Only  after  some  hesitation  did  the  official  whom  she 
entrusted  with  this  investigation  pluck  up  courage  coyly 
to  murmur,  "  Come  where  the  booze  is  cheaper."  This 
was  a  music-hall  ditty  of  the  day  sung  by  that  admirable 
comedian  Mr  Charles  Coborn,  who  gained  such  popularity 
with  the  "  Man  who  broke  the  bank  at  Monte  Carlo." 

The  personality  of  the  Queen  did  not  seem  one  likely 
to  be  associated  with  either  imagination  or  romance, 
nevertheless  both  dignified  her  last  farewell  to  her 
favourite  Minister,  Lord  Beaconsfield,  as  he  lay  in  his 
grave. 

She  had  parted  from  him  at  Windsor  on  December 
loth,  1880,  when  he  had  driven  all  the  way  from  Windsor 
to  his  home  at  Hughenden. 

Four  days  after  his  funeral  in  April  1881,  as  Mr  Buckle 
in  his  admirable  "  Life  of  Disraeli  "  describes,  the  Queen 
made  a  pilgrimage  to  Hughenden  churchyard,  following 
exactly  the  same  route,  while  even  taking  care  to  tread 
in  the  path  by  which  the  great  statesman's  body  had  been 
borne  to  the  grave.  She  had  the  vault  re-opened  in  order 
in  person  to  lay  a  wTeath  upon  the  coffin  within. 

The  monument  in  Hughenden  Church,  placed  there, 
as  its  inscription  runs,  "  to  the  dear  and  honoured 
memory  of  Benjamin,  Earl  of  Beaconsfield,  by  his  grateful 
Sovereign  and  friend  Victoria  R.I., — Kings  love  him 
that  speaketh  right,"  remains  as  an  enduring  memorial 
of  Royal  love  and  esteem. 

The  Queen  was  exceedingly  tenacious  of  her  privileges, 
none  of  which  she  ever  forgot. 

In  the  'nineties,  for  instance,  she  created  quite  a  sen- 
sation amongst  the  riders  in  Rotten  Row  by  driving 
down  the  Ride — a  privilege  which  the  English  Sovereign 
shares  with  the  Duchess  of  St  Albans,  whose  husband 
is  hereditary  Grand  Falconer. 

By  that  time  the  Row  was  already  a  less  patrician 


VICTORIAN  DAYS  7 

resort  than  it  had  been  in  the  days  when  the  Iron  Duke 
was  to  be  seen  riding  at  a  slow  pace,  his  top  hat  pushed 
back  that  the  white  hair  on  his  temples  might  have  the 
benefit  of  the  breeze,  his  head  bent  forward,  the  keenness 
of  the  eyes  half-dimmed,  his  cheeks  sunken,  wrinkles 
round  his  mouth,  his  aquiline  nose  bony  and  protruding 
— there  was,  however,  always  a  look  of  dignity  about 
the  aged  figure  which  well  became  the  victor  of  Waterloo. 

When  the  old  Duke  went  out  driving  he  did  so  in  an 
open  carriage  composed  of  two  gigs,  one  behind  the  other, 
the  rear  gig  being  attached  to  the  fore  gig  by  a  hook  and 
staple  like  a  gun-carriage.  His  Grace  in  this  way  only 
had  a  coachman  and  no  footman.  The  fashionable 
bachelor's  vehicle  at  that  time  was  a  cabriolet,  with  a 
high-stepping  horse,  and  a  very  small  tiger  hanging  on 
behind. 

The  aristocracy  then  had  only  family  chariots  or  coaches 
with  steps  to  let  down  from  inside,  and  it  was  universal 
to  have  a  footman,  and  often  two,  standing  on  a  board 
at  the  back.  Physicians  used  to  drive  about  in  chariots, 
and  Dr  Locock,  afterwards  Sir  Charles,  was  the  first  to 
dispense  with  a  second  man,  his  plan  being  to  use  a  very 
high  Victoria  with  a  solid  apron,  which  he  could  throw 
open  and  by  one  fixed  step  reach  the  pavement. 

At  the  beginning  of  Queen  Victoria's  reign  the  hackney 
carriages  which  plied  for  hire  were  generally  super- 
annuated family  coaches  with  steps  to  let  down,  drawn 
by  a  pair  of  horses,  and  the  fare  is.  a  mile.  The  only 
hack  cabs  were  like  a  modern  gig  with  a  hood,  on  very 
high  wheels,  and  on  the  right-hand  side  outside  the  gig 
body  was  a  very  small  square  ledge  on  which  the  driver 
sat.  Accidents  with  these  cabs  were  very  frequent, 
from  the  horses  falling,  collisions,  and  other  casualties. 
The  fares  were  8d.  a  mile,  an  arrangement  giving  rise  to 
constant  altercations  when  settling  the  fare.  Hansom 
cabs  were  first  brought  out  about  1840,  and  were  called 
Patent  Safety.  They  soon  became  very  popular. 


8          MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Most  of  the  old  school  being  firmly  imbued  with  the 
idea  that  England  was  going  to  the  dogs,  new  inventions 
failed  to  arouse  their  enthusiasm  and  a  number  declined 
to  make  use  of  them.  An  opponent  of  railways  said : 
"  I  used  to  consider  a  journey  as  an  agreeable  relaxation. 
Instead  of  being  treated  like  a  parcel,  as  I  am  now,  and 
trundled  into  a  carriage,  and  driven  along  willy-nilly 
at  whatever  pace  and  to  whatever  place  they  choose  to 
take  me,  I  could  go  eight  or  ten  miles  an  hour  along 
excellent  roads,  stay  at  excellent  inns,  could  stop  when 
convenient,  and  sleep  whenever  I  chose." 

In  hackney  coaches  and  cabs  it  was  universal  to  have 
an  armful  of  straw  in  the  well.  Thackeray  remarks  on 
the  distress  of  an  otherwise  smart  bachelor  entering  a 
room  with  a  straw  sticking  to  his  shoe. 

To-day  such  an  idea  appears  absurd  and  even  snobbish, 
but  the  whole  mental  outlook  as  regards  social  matters 
was  then  peculiar.  A  certain  section  of  the  aristocracy, 
for  instance,  considered  itself  as  being  almost  of  different 
clay  from  ordinary  mortals. 

Certain  great  ladies  lived  in  a  sort  of  stately  isolation 
from  the  outer  world  which  produced  a  superb  com- 
placency of  an  astounding  kind. 

"  There  may  be  better-looking  women  than  myself," 
said  a  beautiful  Duchess  of  Portland.  "  All  I  can  say  is 
I  have  never  seen  them." 

The  unique  advantages  formerly  enjoyed  by  the  upper 
class  sometimes  engendered  a  mental  attitude  of  a  curious 
kind.  The  Duchess  of  Devonshire  and  other  great 
beauties  of  the  eighteenth  century,  it  has  been  aptly  said, 
regarded  Dr  Johnson  and  other  very  gifted  men  of 
non-aristocratic  birth  much  as  they  might  have  done 
highly  intelligent  Newfoundland  dogs.  Besides  great 
pride,  a  curious  sort  of  disdain  was  not  uncommon. 

Byron's  daughter,  the  first  Lady  Lovelace,  being  asked 
how  she  liked  the  sea  which  broke  on  the  coast  below 
her  new  home,  replied :  "  I  simply  detest  it,  because  it 


VICTORIAN  DAYS  9 

reminds  me  of  an  old  governess  of  mine  who  was  my 
especial  bete  noir." 

This  Lady  Lovelace's  son  was  the  late  Earl,  a  most 
cultivated  and  clever  man,  who  wrote  "  Astarte,"  a 
curious  work  dealing  with  his  grandfather  the  poet, 
which  has  aroused  a  good  deal  of  controversy. 

Mrs  Beecher  Stowe  took  up  the  cudgels  very  warmly 
for  the  poet's  wife  and  attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention 
by  writing  "  Lady  Byron  Vindicated,"  a  carefully  written 
refutation  of  which  by  the  late  Poet  Laureate,  Mr  Alfred 
Austin,  was  published  in  the  Standard. 

Whether  Mrs  Beecher  Stowe  was  right  or  wrong  there 
is  no  doubt  anything  connected  with  sentimentalism 
made  a  great  appeal  to  her. 

Carlyle  somewhat  harshly  called  her  "  a  poor  foolish 
woman  who  wrote  a  book  of  wretched  trash  called  '  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin/  "  This  was  at  the  Grange,  after  he  had 
been  scandalising  Lady  Ashburton  by  defending  slavery, 
while  Mrs  Carlyle  sat  quietly  in  a  corner  busy  with  her 
embroidery. 

The  Victorian  Era  produced  some  old  ladies  of  quite 
astounding  appearance.  Such  a  one  was  Maria,  Mar- 
chioness of  Ailesbury,  who  to  the  end  of  her  life  sported 
a  mass  of  corkscrew  ringlets,  which  fell  in  abundant 
masses  around  her  aquiline  and  commanding  profile.  In 
great  request  in  society,  she  frankly  declared  that  she 
would  go  to  no  country  house  unless  she  could  stay  a 
fortnight,  as  otherwise  "  it  would  not  pay  her."  She 
lunched  and  dined  out  to  such  an  extent  that  it  was 
currently  reported  that  she  herself  kept  no  cook.  Her 
only  extravagance  was  engaging  tall  footmen  —  any 
man  about  six  feet  high  who  attracted  her  attention 
being  promptly  engaged,  no  matter  what  his  character 
might  be. 

There  were  certain  strange  contradictions  in  the  very 
exclusive  society  of  that  day. 

It  was  curious,  for  instance,  that  both  Lady  Molesworth 


10        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

and  Lady  Waldegrave,  who  were  such  prominent  social 
figures,  were  not  of  aristocratic  birth. 

Lady  Molesworth,  ill-natured  people  said,  had  been  a 
circus  rider,  while  Lady  Waldegrave  was  the  daughter  of 
old  Braham  the  singer  and  not  a  bit  ashamed  of  her 
origin.  She  would  often  jokingly  say,  when  present  at 
a  party  at  which  any  curious  or  unknown  people  were 
amongst  the  guests,  "  I  am  sure  every  one  will  say  they 
are  some  of  my  vulgar  relatives." 

This  lady  spent  huge  sums  on  the  decoration  or  rather 
destruction  of  Strawberry  Hill. 

Shade  of  Horace  Walpole  !  what  artistic  atrocities  she 
committed ! 

The  poor  lady,  however,  was  not  alone  in  this  line,  for 
at  that  time  much  fine  Georgian  decorative  work  was 
being  destroyed  in  the  stately  mansions  of  Mayfair. 

People  who  were  ahead  of  their  time  occasionally  tried 
to  arrest  the  hand  of  the  destroyer,  but  the  old  school, 
once  they  had  made  up  their  mind,  preferred  even 
sturdily  to  be  wrong  than  weakly  to  be  right. 

So-called  Metropolitan  improvements  then  generally 
evoked  opposition. 

A  critic  in  1867,  after  declaring  that  the  Embankment 
beyond  Blackfriars  did  not  exist  even  in  mind,  went 
on  to  say :  "  The  whole  thing  promises  to  be  a  failure. 
In  a  small  matter  swindle  would  be  the  correct  term. 
But  larger  things  never  descend  to  little  names ;  and 
if  every  householder  in  London  is  paying  an  exorbitant 
rate  for  these  improvements,  let  him  comfort  himself 
at  least  with  the  reflection  that  he  is  buying  experience , 
or  something  equally  useful,  for  posterity.  It  is  perhaps 
difficult  to  hit  on  any  satisfactory  way  of  punishing  the 
fools — for  it  is  to  be  presumed  that  British  thick-headed- 
ness  is  somewhere  at  the  bottom  of  the  matter — who  have 
wasted  the  public  money  and  patience  in  a  bungling 
enterprise.  One  idea,  however,  does  suggest  itself, 
and,  as  it  may  be  worth  something,  here  it  is  :  let  it  then 


VICTORIAN  DAYS  11 

be  given  out  forthwith  that  a  London  statue  will  be 
immediately  erected  to  the  memory  of  every  one  dis- 
tinguishing himself  by  any  notorious  bit  of  insanity  in 
connection  with  this  metropolitan  work." 

During  the  Mid-Victorian  period  a  craze  prevailed 
for  the  Gothic  style,  which,  being  but  imperfectly  under- 
stood, resulted  in  the  erection  of  a  number  of  monstrous 
edifices,  amongst  which  perhaps  it  would  be  unkind  to 
include  St  Pancras  Station,  in  a  number  of  respects  a  copy 
of  the  Cloth  Hall  at  Ypres. 

The  design  was  originally  intended  for  the  new  Foreign 
Office  at  Whitehall. 

During  a  debate  in  the  House  of  Commons,  Lord 
Palmerston  once  uttered  the  dictum  that  the  Gothic 
style  was  altogether  unsuitable  to  modern  wants.  In 
illustration  of  his  views,  the  noble  lord  said  that  Somerset 
House  was  a  much  handsomer  building  than  the  new 
Houses  of  Parliament  at  Westminster.  And  a  certain 
number  of  people  agreed  with  him.  "  People  of  taste," 
said  a  writer  in  the  Press,  "  profess  to  be  very  much 
shocked  at  this  avowal,  which  is  no  doubt  flat  heresy 
from  an  artistic  point  of  view;  but  those  who  value 
simplicity  and  convenience  in  a  building  will  probably 
argue  with  Lord  Palmerston  that  a  building  like  Somerset 
House  is  much  more  suitable  for  a  place  of  business  than 
the  Westminster  Palace."  This  view  prevailed  as  to  the  new 
Foreign  Office,  which  was  constructed  as  we  see  it  to-day. 

The  modern  Admiralty,  close  by,  according  to  a  story 
for  which  the  writer  will  not  vouch,  has  an  amusing 
origin.  The  architect  who  had  been  commissioned  to 
prepare  the  designs  for  the  new  building  was  at  the 
same  time  engaged  planning  a  new  lunatic  asylum. 

Summoned  suddenly  to  Windsor  to  show  Queen 
Victoria  his  drawings,  he  took  with  him  by  mistake  those 
for  the  asylum.  This  he  only  discovered  when  Her 
Majesty,  to  whom  he  had  handed  his  portfolio,  expressed 
herself  highly  pleased. 


12        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

As  she  approved  very  much  of  the  design,  nothing  more 
was  to  be  done,  and  the  Admiralty  as  it  stands  to-day 
was  constructed  on  the  plans  made  for  the  asylum. 

In  addition  to  erecting  a  number  of  buildings  and 
churches  in  the  pseudo-Gothic  style,  the  Victorians  spoilt 
a  number  of  the  latter.  Owing  to  the  craze  for  substi- 
tuting modern  imitations  of  Gothic  for  fine  Jacobean  and 
Georgian  work,  restorers,  besides  destroying  much  price- 
less woodwork,  robbed  hundreds  of  grey  old  churches  of 
their  ancient  charm.  Even  when  judicious,  the  result 
was  rarely  satisfactory ;  for  whilst  the  outward  form 
was  destroyed  the  inward  spirit  which  had  animated  the 
old  builders  was  generally  lost. 

Enormous  sums  may  be  spent  in  the  erection  of  build- 
ings in  the  style  of  a  long-past  age,  nevertheless  there  is 
little  charm  in  architectural  structures,  of  which  we  have 
seen  the  stones  placed  one  by  one,  comparable  to  the 
charm  of  ancient  monuments,  filled  with  memorials  of  a 
chivalry  long  passed  away. 

Many  residents  in  Mayfair  considered  it  their  own 
especial  domain.  My  own  mother  was  somewhat  imbued 
with  this  spirit,  which  made  her  bitterly  resent  any  out- 
side interference  to  abate  what  most  modern  people 
consider  nuisances. 

Attempts  to  hush  the  time-honoured  noises  of  Mayfair 
never  gained  her  support. 

The  bell  of  the  muffin  man  and  the  cries  of  itinerant 
vendors,  growing  rarer  year  by  year,  rang  pleasantly  in 
the  ears  of  an  older  generation,  recalling,  as  they  did, 
memories  of  a  pleasant  childhood. 

Street  music,  she  would  admit,  was  a  more  doubtful 
amenity ;  nevertheless,  she  rather  liked  it,  and  at  that 
time  she  was  not  alone  in  doing  so. 

During  the  'eighties  a  resident  in  Charles  Street,  Berkeley 
Square,  became  so  angry  at  the  efforts  of  a  neighbour  to 
banish  some  itinerant  musicians,  that  he  eventually  had 
them  up  on  his  balcony  to  play  there  ! 


VICTORIAN  DAYS  13 

Though  Mayfair  could  not  be  said  to  have  been  very 
musical  during  the  Victorian  Era,  very  agreeable  little 
musical  evenings  were  at  one  time  given  by  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Sir  Alexander  Cockburn,  whose  passion  for  music 
Hayward  called  "  professional  taste,"  because,  as  he 
said,  another  Lord  Chief  Justice — Lord  Tenterden — used 
to  declare  that  having  in  youth  failed  in  a  competition 
for  a  chorister's  place,  he  had  consoled  himself  for  the 
failure  by  getting  called  to  the  Bar. 

Abraham  Hayward,  with  an  unlimited  repertory  of 
incidents  concerning  the  people  who  were  prominent  in 
society  and  politics,  had  a  great  reputation  as  a  raconteur. 
He  had  been  a  distinguished  scholar  and  epicure,  had 
travelled  widely,  and  was  equally  at  home  in  the  French 
and  English  capitals.  All  the  celebrated  restaurants, 
chefs,  and  maitres-d'hotel  of  Paris  were  familiar  to 
him.  Last,  but  not  least,  he  possessed  a  marvellous 
memory  to  recall  the  people  he  had  met,  and  the  dinners 
and  festivities  at  which  he  had  assisted  in  vanished 
days. 

Nevertheless,  in  his  last  years  Hayward  was  looked 
upon  as  something  of  a  social  nuisance. 

Whilst  out  of  touch  with  the  times  he  was  always  ready, 
as  he  himself  confessed,  to  drink  any  quantity  of  given 
port,  and  failed  to  fall  in  with  the  more  abstemious  habits 
of  a  younger  generation. 

Hosts  and  hostesses  of  the  past  delighted  in  gathering 
together  people  of  conversational  power,  and  for  this 
reason  certain  individuals  whose  sole  credentials  were 
their  wit  were  accorded  considerable  licence. 

Though  people  did  not  pose  as  being  cultured,  intellect 
was  not  lacking  among  them.  The  octaves,  or  dinners  of 
eight,  given  by  the  late  Sir  Henry  Thompson,  beside* 
being  excellent  from  a  gastronomical  point  of  view,  were 
also  intellectual  feasts. 

Good  talkers  were  highly  appreciated  during  the 
Victorian  Era.  Certain  individuals,  owing  to  their  con- 


14        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

versational  brilliancy,  in  a  way  dominated  society,  and 
•were  allowed  great  licence. 

Such  a  one  was  Bernal  Osborne,  whose  incisive  wit  was 
prone  to  be  exercised  at  the  expense  of  a  butt  in  a 
manner  which  would  not  be  tolerated  to-day. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  general  level  of  conversation 
has  undoubtedly  deteriorated,  and  if  it  had  not,  it  is 
doubtful  whether  even  an  exceptionally  gifted  talker 
would  be  able  to  keep  people  from  the  allurements  of 
the  Bridge  which  now  takes  up  so  much  of  their  time. 

Sitting  after  lunch  and  dinner  in  Victorian  days  was 
often  a  trying  experience,  old  gentlemen  having  a  habit 
of  telling  long  and  tedious  stories  to  anyone  who  seemed 
to  be  a  fit  subject  for  the  cruel  experiment. 

Certain  well-known  bores  indeed  enjoyed  a  sort  of 
privileged  position  which  no  one  thought  of  resenting, 
and  became  accepted  as  features  of  social  life.  To-day 
there  would  be  few  ready  to  tolerate  the  atmosphere  of 
mental  toothache  which  the  type  in  question  produces. 
The  dominance  of  such  nuisances  has  happily  become 
a  thing  of  the  past. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  there  are 
more  prigs  about  to-day  than  was  the  case  in  former 
times — the  tendencies  of  the  modern  world  encourage 
these  social  pests. 

A  boy  of  good  mental  attainments  who,  having  been 
spoilt  at  home  does  well  at  school,  where  he  is  taken  up 
by  the  masters,  runs  special  risks  of  being  attacked  by 
the  malady. 

It  is  well  to  realise  exactly  what  a  prig  is.  In  Webster's 
New  International  Dictionary  a  prig  is  defined  as — 

"  One  narrowly  and  self-consciously  engrossed  in  his 

own  mental  or  spiritual  attainments,  one  guilty  of 

moral  or  intellectual  foppery  ;  a  conceited  precisian." 

In  "  Slang  and   its  Analogies "   (edited  by  John  S. 

Farmer  and  W.  E.  Henley,  MCMII),  a  prig  is  described  as — 

"  A  superior  person,  i.e.  a  person  esteeming  himself 


VICTORIAN  DAYS  15 

superior  in  dress,  morals,  social  standing,  anything, 

and  behaving  as  such.    Also  a  bore." 

The  true  prig  is  deliberately  and  aggressively  superior. 
He  is  never,  of  course,  genial  or  hearty,  and  of  necessity 
bereft  of  any  keen  sense  of  humour,  which  is  a  powerful 
antidote  to  priggism. 

The  true  prig  usually  looks  up  at  the  ceiling  when  talk- 
ing to  you,  and  is  rather  apt  to  sink  his  voice  at  the  end 
of  his  sentences.  He  frequently  does  not  appear  to  have 
heard  what  has  been  said  to  him,  an  affectation  which 
merely  indicates  that  he  has  not  thought  it  worth  while 
to  attend. 

The  pathetic  thing  is  that  highly  gifted  and  clever 
people  are  just  as  apt  to  fall  victims  to  the  unpleasant 
disorder  of  priggism  as  stupid  ones — rather  more  apt,  in 
fact.  Complete  recovery  is  rare,  but  sufferers  exposed 
to  drastic  treatment  have  been  known  to  improve. 

Courtesy  and  consideration  were  better  nurtured  under 
old-fashioned  conditions  than  in  these  days  of  haste  and 
speed,  while  there  was  then  ample  time  for  that  tranquil 
reflection  which  imparts  a  spirit  of  real  culture  to  the 
community  able  to  indulge  in  it. 

The  way  of  leisure  to  anyone  with  brains  should  be 
the  way  of  thought,  the  promotion  of  which  should  be  the 
end  of  all  true  education. 

The  real  gentleman  of  the  old  school  was  polite 
to  all. 

Nor  did  English  aristocracy  of  the  past  attempt  to 
dazzle  or  to  awe  people  or  to  make  them  envious.  They 
were  too  sure  of  their  position  to  be  tempted  to  advertise 
it,  except  when  giving  grand  entertainments.  Most  of 
them,  unlike  some  of  our  modern  mushroom  moneybag 
peers,  were  not  ostentatious  in  their  ways. 

The  publicity  propaganda  which  is  now  so  frequently 
employed  by  ambitious  individuals  was  then  unheard  of ; 
and  if  it  had  existed,  the  really  big  men  of  that  era  would 
have  been  too  proud  to  make  use  of  it. 


16        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Those  who  thought  that  the  door  to  social  success  was 
labelled  "  push  "  were  apt  to  receive  stern  rebuffs. 

"  I  had  the  pleasure  recently  of  passing  your  house," 
said  a  nouveau  riche  to  an  old  nobleman.  "  I  am  glad 
of  it,  sir,  and  hope  you  will  always  continue  to  do  so," 
was  the  reply. 

In  those  days  when  the  middle  classes  were  on  their 
social  promotion  some  of  them  were  glad  enough  even  to 
be  snubbed  by  the  right  people. 

Not  a  few  of  the  great  territorial  magnates  were  stern, 
serious  men  who,  as  they  themselves  would  have  said, 
stood  no  nonsense." 

Such  a  one  was  the  host  who,  very  precise  about 
religious  observances,  was  told  by  a  lady  staying  with 
him  that  as  she  had  practically  decided  to  become  a 
Catholic  she  must  beg  to  be  excused  from  going  to  church 
on  the  coming  Sunday. 

"  A  Catholic  church,"  was  the  reply,  "  is  about  twenty 
miles  off,  but  my  carriage  and  horses  will  be  ready  a  little 
after  daybreak,  when  I  shall  expect  you  to  be  ready  "  ; 
and  she  had  to  go. 

On  the  whole  the  great  landowners  were  not  unkindly 
men. 

Not  a  few  made  a  point  of  entertaining  all  the  country- 
side, while  showing  extraordinary  solicitude  for  their 
dependants. 

Writing  in  1834,  Charles  Greville  described  the  relations 
between  Lord  Egremont  and  his  tenants  as  being  cordial 
to  an  extraordinary  degree. 

A  tenants'  festival,  at  which  the  diarist  assisted, 
greatly  impressed  him.  Four  thousand  invitations  had 
been  issued,  but  about  double  that  number  came.  Old 
Lord  Egremont,  not  being  able  to  endure  the  thought 
that  there  should  be  anybody  hungering  outside  his  gates, 
went  out,  ordered  the  barriers  to  be  taken  down,  and 
admittance  given  to  all. 

The   peer   in   question,   besides   being   a   munificent 


VICTORIAN  DAYS  17 

patron  of  the  arts,  and  a  sportsman,  gave  away  about 
£20,000  a  year  in  charity.  He  was,  of  course,  enormously 
rich ;  nevertheless,  few  wealthy  men  have  probably 
been  anything  like  as  generous  to  the  poor  and  needy. 
Old  Lord  Egremont,  and  many  other  kind-hearted 
aristocrats  who  delighted  in  relieving  distress,  belonged, 
however,  to  the  old  school  of  Englishmen  who  looked 
rather  askance  at  organised  charities. 

The  difference  between  the  fine  old  English  noblemen 
and  their  successors  was  well  shown  by  a  remark  made 
by  the  son  of  a  universally  popular  peer  who  in  his  day 
had  enjoyed  great  influence  in  the  district,  where  he  was 
known  as  a  good  fellow  and  first-  rate  sportsman. 

One  who  remembered  the  father  was  telling  the  son 
of  the  former's  generosity. 

"  Your  father,"  said  he,  "  ordered  the  officers  of  his 
yeomanry  to  give  a  ball,  but  took  care  to  pay  every 
penny  of  the  expenses  himself. 

"  He  kept  a  large  number  of  saddle  horses  in  London, 
and  when  he  met  young  men  he  knew  up  in  town  from  the 
country,  gave  them  mounts  to  ride  in  the  Row." 

"  More  damned  fool  he  !  "  said  the  son. 

No  wonder  the  latter  was  not  popular. 

While  a  number  managed  their  estates  well  a  good  many 
old  Victorian  peers  and  landowners  were  great  muddlers 
in  matters  of  business.  Probably  those  who  did  best 
were  the  ones  who  left  the  management  of  their  fortune 
and  estates  in  the  hands  of  solicitors  and  agents.  The 
latter,  however,  often  feathered  their  nests  as  did  their 
predecessors  of  the  eighteenth  century,  a  few  of  whom 
accumulated  sufficient  lands  and  money  to  become 
elevated  into  the  Peerage. 

There  were  landowners  in  the  past  who,  leaving  their 
affairs  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  family  lawyer,  had  their 
own  money  doled  out  to  them  rather  as  if  so  doing  was 
a  favour. 

Some  practically  lived  as  if  on  an  allowance  from  this 
2 


18        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

personage,  whom  minor  members  of  the  family  approached 
with  feelings  bordering  upon  awe. 

When  an  eldest  son  got  into  financial  trouble  he  was 
usually  sent  to  his  father's  lawyer  to  get  him  out  of  it 
or  leave  him  in  as  the  case  might  be.  As  a  rule,  however, 
after  a  severe  talking-to,  the  spendthrift  was  extricated. 

In  some  cases,  where  arrangements  to  pay  off  debts 
had  to  be  made,  a  father  would  join  with  his  son  in  a 
resettlement,  it  being  understood  that  he  should  receive 
a  financial  quid  pro  quo  for  what  he  consented  to  do. 
Many  fathers  were  as  improvident  as  their  sons — some 
worse.  Cases  indeed  were  not  unknown  where  a  father 
persuaded  a  too  chivalrous  son  to  enter  into  an  arrange- 
ment by  which  the  former's  debts  might  be  paid  out  of 
the  family  estate. 

Sons  who  refused  to  agree  to  anything  of  the  sort 
were  apt  to  be  denounced  as  unnatural  and  ungrateful 
children. 

Family  lawyers  often  knew  far  more  about  a  family 
than  did  its  various  members  ;  also  it  was  not  uncommon 
for  one  firm  to  have  acted  as  legal  advisers  to  a  family 
for  several  generations.  That  of  course  was  in  the  old 
easy-going  days  when  lawyers  thought  nothing  of  not 
answering  a  letter  for  a  week  or  two,  being  of  opinion, 
no  doubt,  that  as  the  purport  of  most  letters  was  a  request 
for  money,  it  was  just  as  well  not  to  encourage  clients  to 
write  too  many. 

At  funerals  and  weddings  the  family  lawyer  was  an 
indispensable  attendant  and  was  treated  with  deference. 

Some  of  them  had  a  difficult  time  keeping  estates 
together,  for  the  landowners  of  the  past  were  often  very 
reckless  in  their  youth. 

Considering  the  folly  of  their  clients  and  the  great 
opportunities  afforded  to  lawyers  for  making  money 
out  of  them,  the  latter,  with  of  course  a  few  exceptions, 
behaved  in  an  honourable  and  honest  fashion. 

Compared   with   that   of   some   other   countries    the 


VICTORIAN  DAYS  19 

English  aristocracy  has  never  been  rapacious  in  the  way 
of  battening  upon  public  funds,  nevertheless  snug  berths 
in  Government  offices  were  once  easily  accessible  to  its 
offspring. 

A  great  Whig  peer  having  dictated  his  will  to  his 
lawyer,  the  latter  pointed  out  to  him  that  he  had  made 
.no  provision  for  his  younger  sons.  "  Sir,"  replied  the 
hereditary  law-giver,  "  my  country  has  provided  for 
the  younger  male  scions  of  our  family  for  the  last  three 
generations,  and  shall  I  begin  to  doubt  her  gratitude  ?  " 
No  doubt  this  touching  instance  of  simple  faith  had  its 
Teward. 

Old  aristocracies  from  their  very  nature  must  include 
a  number  of  persons  unable  to  realise  facts,  which  was 
probably  the  reason  why  children  destined  to  great 
wealth  and  high  position  so  seldom  received  a  suitable 
education. 

The  chronicle  of  the  many  old  English  families  which 
have  gone  to  ruin  through  a  spendthrift's  folly  makes 
pathetic  reading. 

A  notable  instance  was  Mytton  of  Halston,  a  semi- 
lunatic  who,  by  all  accounts,  ought  to  have  been  placed 
under  control.  Right  up  to  the  present  time  the  same 
kind  of  thing  went  on.  Witness  Windham  of  Felbrigg, 
who  in  the  'sixties  by  maniacal  extravagance  managed 
to  alienate  the  lands  and  mansion  which  for  centuries 
had  been  the  pride  of  his  race.  And  the  fourth  Marquis 
of  Ailesbury,  whose  ambition  it  was  to  be  taken  for  a 
bus-driver  ! 

All  over  England  old  families  are  now  parting  with 
their  domains,  and  in  the  course  of  half  a  century  or  so 
their  very  names  will  be  forgotten  in  districts  where  their 
ancestors  lived  for  centuries. 

The  memory  of  territorial  magnates  soon  fades  away. 

A  genealogist  searching  in  Derbyshire  for  relics  of  the 
once  great  family  of  Finderne  found  no  record  or  trace  of 
their  vanished  splendour. 


20        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

In  the  village  close  to  what  had  been  their  splendid 
abode,  however,  an  old  rustic  volunteered  to  show  the  site 
where  the  manor  house  had  stood.  Leading  the  student 
into  a  field  the  man  pointed  out  faint  traces  of  terrace 
and  foundation.  "  There,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  bank 
of  garden  flowers  grown  wild,  "  these  are  Finderne  flowers, 
brought  by  Sir  Geoffrey  from  the  Holy  Land,  and  the  folks 
here  say  that  they  will  never  die." 


II 

THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR 

MAYFAIR,  even  thirty  years  ago,  retained  much 
of  the  air  of  ease  and  repose  for  which  the 
district  had  been  noted. 

No  omnibuses  were  allowed  to  pass  through  these 
streets,  and  few  costermongers  or  sellers  of  fruit,  onions, 
oysters,  and  fish  found  their  way  into  these  regions. 

Meanwhile  the  exterior  of  the  most  of  the  old  Georgian 
mansions  remained  unchanged. 

Hatchments,  however,  which  at  an  earlier  period  were 
so  often  hung  on  houses  where  people  had  died,  were 
already  practically  obsolete,  though  I  fancy  one  or  two 
might  have  been  discovered  up  to  the  end  of  the  last 
century. 

House  decoration  was  then  at  a  low  ebb,  and  living 
rooms  for  the  most  part  were  lacking  in  taste  or 
charm.  The  Victorians,  many  as  were  their  merits,  did 
not  appreciate  art. 

A  mania  prevailed  for  painting  halls  an  ugly  brown, 
and  fine  mahogany  doors  were  often  disfigured  by  coats 
•of  paint. 

Many  of  these  houses,  picturesque  as  they  often  were, 
had  their  own  peculiar  drawbacks.  Those  which  could 
boast  a  bathroom  were  very  few  in  number,  whilst  in 
the  'forties  and  'fifties,  and  even  later,  such  conveniences 
were  practically  unknown.  Often,  indeed,  there  were 
no  big  baths  at  all,  ablutions  being  performed  in  the 
so-called  foot-baths,  which  were  a  sort  of  cross  between 
a  wine  cooler  and  a  soup  tureen.  At  the  same  time  it 
must  be  added  that  people  were  probably  not  so  very 


22        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

much  dirtier  than  they  are  to-day,  for  the  modern  practice 
of  lying  in  hot  water  need  not  necessarily  be  any  more 
cleansing  than  the  vigorous  rubbing  of  a  soaped  flannel, 
the  proper  application  of  which  once  formed  an  important 
part  of  a  child's  education. 

The  Victorians,  while  making  no  pretence  of  being 
artistic,  went  in  solely  for  comfort. 

Their  drawing-rooms  as  a  rule  were  overcrowded  with 
furniture,  ornaments  and  pictures,  most  of  which  were 
bad,  though  there  were  generally  a  few  fine  things 
which  through  being  obscured  by  rubbish  attracted  no 
attention. 

Little  interest  was  taken  in  the  various  styles  ;  fine 
French  furniture,  on  account  of  the  brightness  of  its  gold 
mounts,  many  people  considered  vulgar. 

The  aesthetic  movement,  though  satirized  in  "  Patience," 
put  an  end  to  this  state  of  affairs,  and  since  then  taste 
has  undoubtedly  improved. 

The  exclusive  society  of  the  West  End  was  still  mainly 
patrician,  and  there  was  much  difficulty  about  getting 
into  a  circle  limited  by  birth. 

At  the  same  time  it  is  only  fair  to  remember  that 
people  of  real  intelligence,  men  of  science  and  letters, 
were  welcomed. 

Adequately  dowered  with  the  world's  goods,  if  not 
positively  wealthy,  with  abundance  of  leisure,  a  fair 
knowledge  of  the  world,  good  manners  and  a  certain 
amount  of  culture,  the  dwellers  in  Mayfair  led  happy, 
comfortable  and,  on  the  whole,  inoffensive  lives.  Such 
vices  as  they  had  were  not  flaunted  in  the  face  of  the 
general  public ;  indeed,  considering  the  great  social  advan- 
tages they  enjoyed,  their  existence  was  surprisingly  staid 
and  decorous,  contrasting  very  favourably  with  that 
of  the  nobility  of  other  countries.  With  the  rise  to 
affluence  and  power  of  the  middle  class,  however,  the 
whole  social  structure  of  this  aristocratic  life  was  pro- 
foundly shaken,  and  once  the  flood-gates  barring  out 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       23 

the  bourgeoisie  had  been  opened,  it  became  manifest 
that  the  sun  of  aristocratic  dominance  was  about  to  set. 

Speaking  of  humanity,  Chamfort  said,  "  toute  notre 
malheur  vient  de  ne  pas  pouvoir  rester  seul,"  an  aphorism 
which  in  another  sense  applied  to  the  old-world  society 
of  Mayfair. 

From  time  immemorial,  it  is  true,  the  aristocracy  had 
always  been  glad  to  marry  its  sons  to  the  daughters 
of  wealthy  merchants  and  tradesmen.  The  com- 
mercial brides  in  question,  however,  had  been  absolutely 
absorbed  into  their  husband's  class,  nor  did  their  marriage 
facilitate  the  entry  of  their  middle-class  relatives  into 
patrician  circles. 

With  the  coming  of  the  new  era,  everything  changed. 
The  fathers,  mothers,  sisters,  brothers,  and  often  count- 
less other  relatives,  insisted  upon  being  received  on  the 
same  footing  as  the  young  lady  about  to  regild  some 
tarnished  coronet  or  rescue  from  ruin  some  holder  of  an 
ancient  name. 

The  nouveaux  riches  of  an  earlier  epoch,  even  when 
admitted  into  the  outskirts  of  society,  had  been  made 
to  keep  such  a  place  as  was  deemed  to  be  suitable  to 
them.  For  the  first  time  those  of  the  latter  portion  of 
the  last  century  resented  such  limitations,  and  in  some 
cases  showed  a  successful  independence  which  refused 
to  be  curbed. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  the  forbears  of  a  good  many 
of  the  so-called  "  smart  set  "  sailed  out  of  the  sea  of 
obscurity  into  the  haven  of  social  success. 

As  the  star  of  the  middle-class  rose  that  of  the  aristo- 
cracy declined.  While  not  a  few  of  the  old  school  realized 
and  deplored  this,  others  joined  frantically  in  the  worship 
of  wealth ;  yet  another  section  viewed  the  situation 
philosophically — as  they  were  ready  to  admit,  their  order 
had  had  a  good  innings  and  now  the  time  had  come  for 
others  to  have  one  too. 

Society  to-day  is  no  longer  an  institution,  being  com- 


24        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

posed  merely  of  various  coteries,  mostly  consisting  of 
wealthy  but  quite  unimportant  people. 

Not  so  very  long  ago,  the  strings  of  politics  were 
mainly  pulled  from  Mayfair,  which  also  had  a  consider- 
able say  in  the  distribution  of  titles  and  rewards.  Society, 
therefore,  was  a  serious  matter  which  had  to  be  taken 
account  of  by  anyone  ambitious  of  getting  on. 

The  people  in  it,  mainly  by  right  of  birth,  for  the  most 
part  appreciated  the  privileges  they  enjoyed,  while 
recognising  that  they  had  responsibilities. 

Though  no  better  or  worse  than  the  rest  of  the  world, 
they  had  certain  social  ideals  which  the  majority  re- 
spected. If  they  erred  they  tried  to  do  so  in  as  decorous 
a  manner  as  possible ;  very  few  took  the  surprising 
leaps  into  impropriety  so  often  to  be  found  chronicled 
in  the  newspapers  of  to-day. 

In  the  matter  of  morality,  society,  like  the  rest  of  the 
world,  from  generation  to  generation  remains  about  the 
same.  The  only  real  difference  is  a  greater  or  lesser 
degree  of  hypocrisy. 

The  tone  of  the  old  English,  who  were  probably  not 
more  loose  than  their  successors,  was  essentially  robust — 
they  called  a  spade  a  spade  and  were  often  quite  frank 
about  their  weaknesses. 

Lord  Palmerston,  for  instance,  was  notoriously  devoted 
to  the  fair  sex.  In  his  youth  he  was  known  among  the 
dames  of  the  fashionable  world  as  "  Cupid,"  because  he 
had  a  chubby  face,  and  curly  red  hair,  and  a  roguish 
eye,  and  had  gained  the  reputation  of  being  "  a  devil 
among  the  ladies."  In  old  age,  it  is  said,  he  was  hauled 
over  the  coals  by  Lady  Shaftesbury  for  paying  too 
marked  attention  to  young  married  women. 

"  To  begin  with,"  said  she,  "it  is  wrong ;  secondly,  it 
is  ungentlemanlike ;  and  lastly,  it  is  stupid,  for  it  can 
never  succeed." 

"As  regards  the  religious  aspect,"  replied  the  old 
statesman,  "  I  admit  the  practice  of  the  Churches  differs. 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       25 

The  taste  is  a  matter  of  opinion — I  think  it  most  gentle- 
manlike. With  reference  to  the  results,  however,  your 
Ladyship  is  totally  misinformed,  for  I  have  never  known 
it  fail." 

"  They  tell  me,  Sir  George,"  said  a  hostess  to  an  old 
Baronet,  "  that  you  love  a  glass  of  wine." 

"  Madam,"  was  his  reply,  "  those  who  told  you  that 
•did  me  an  injustice — they  should  have  said  a  bottle." 

The  philosophy  of  some  of  those  old  viveurs  is  well 
exemplified  by  Lord  Cholmondeley,  who  having,  when 
over  seventy,  married  a  girl  of  twenty-nine,  said  :  *  "  We 
shall  probably  pass  a  couple  of  years  tolerably  comfort- 
ably together,  then  she  will  have  two  more  years  of 
nursing  me,  and  then  she  will  have  her  jointure." 

Another  aristocratic  stoic  would  calmly  anticipate  his 
-approaching  end  and  discuss  the  question  of  a  future 
state.  "  It  consoles  me,"  he  used  to  say,  "  that  which- 
ever it  is  to  be  I  have  good  friends  in  both  places." 

Most  of  these  old  fellows  had  led  jolly  lives. 

"  When  I  was  a  young  man,"  Lord  Palmerston  used  to 
say,  "the  Duke  of  Wellington  made, an  appointment 
with  me  for  half-past  seven  in  the  morning ;  and  I  was 
asked,  '  Why,  Lord  Palmerston,  how  will  you  contrive 
to  keep  that  engagement  ?  '  '  Oh,'  I  said,  '  of  course, 
the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  ;  I  shall  keep  it  the  last  thing 
tefore  I  go  to  bed.'  " 

A  curious  thing  about  the  past  is  that  the  old  happy- 
go-lucky  and  undemocratic  method  of  election  should 
have  produced  such  satisfactory  results.  The  standard 
of  oratory  was  high,  while  dignity  and  common  sense 
were  not  lacking  among  Members  of  Parliament. 

Though  as  a  legislative  body  the  House  of  Commons 
has  on  the  whole  deteriorated  since  the  passing  of  the 
great  Reform  Bill,  elections  to-day  are  less  rowdy  and 
less  corrupt.  In  the  early  part  of  the  last  century  they 
\vere  too  often  little  more  than  a  farce,  the  polling  days 
1  Correspondence  of  Charlotte,  Lady  Williams  Wynn.  John  Murray. 


26        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

being  from  time  immemorial  days  of  feasting,  drinking, 
and  fighting  for  the  lower  classes.  The  want  of  political 
cultivation,  ignorance  of  the  important  questions  at  issue, 
the  indifference  and,  in  many  instances,  the  stupidity 
of  the  people  at  large,  made  it  a  matter  of  small  moment 
to  them  whether  the  barrel  of  beer  from  which  they 
drank  at  an  election  was  the  gift  of  charity  or  the  devil's 
retaining  fee.  No  hustings  without  speechifying — no 
polling-place  without  swilling.  The  witnesses  who  were 
examined  by  the  Election  Committees  generally  confessed 
that  the  candidate,  according  "  to  the  old-established 
custom,"  behaved  like  a  "  gentleman  " — that  he  treated 
the  electors  to  ale  and  gin,  shook  hands  with  them,  gave 
them  money,  and  hired  brass  bands  for  their  special 
gratification. 

Honourable  members,  who  were  very  pathetic  on  the 
neglected  education  of  the  people,  thought  very  little 
of  treating  all  the  inhabitants  of  their  borough  to  a 
preposterous  quantity  of  drink  in  order  to  ensure  their 
re-election. 

A  curious  thing  connected  with  English  politics  is 
that  no  member  who  amuses  the  House  of  Commons 
ever  seems  to  attain  high  political  honours. 

Bernal  Osborne  was  perhaps  justly  regarded  mainly 
as  a  political  free-lance,  but  Henry  Labouchere  was 
undoubtedly  a  man  whose  brain  was  equal  to  that  of 
the  average  Cabinet  Minister. 

In  connection  with  this  an  old  hand  at  politics  once  told 
a  young  speaker :  "  Never  make  people  laugh.  If  you 
would  succeed  in  life,  you  must  be  solemn,  solemn  as  an 
ass.  All  the  great  monuments  are  built  over  solemn 
asses." 

Some  of  the  old  school  of  politicians  were  very  theatrical 
in  their  methods.  Lord  Brougham,  for  instance,  was 
always  threatening  or  praying,  or  both  together ;  and 
in  his  speech  on  the  second  reading  of  the  Reform  Bill  he 
tried  the  effect  of  kneeling  by  way  of  giving  efficacy  to 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       27 

the  concluding  prayer.  The  experiment  was  not  successful, 
and  was  on  the  verge  of  becoming  ludicrous.  During 
a  four  hours'  speech  he  largely  availed  himself  of  the 
privileges  of  the  Lords  to  support  his  strength  and  voice 
with  something  stronger  than  oranges.  Five  tumblers 
full  of  mulled  wine,  with  a  soupc.on  of  brandy,  were  brought 
to  him  at  due  intervals.  Whilst  he  was  imbibing  the 
fifth,  a  Tory  peer  near  the  bar  exclaimed,  "  There's 
another  half  hour  good  for  us,  and  be  damned  to 
him." 

On  another  occasion,  at  Edinburgh,  responding  to 
the  toast  of  "  His  Majesty's  Ministers,"  he  exclaimed, 
extending  his  hands,  "  My  fellow  citizens  of  Edinburgh, 
after  being  four  years  a  minister,  these  hands  are  clean." 
They  happened  to  be  remarkably  dirty,  which  raised  a 
titter  among  those  sitting  close  to  him. 

The  last  of  the  pre- Victorian  M.P.'s,  Mr  John  Temple 
Leader,  M.P.  for  Westminster  from  1837  to  1847,  wh° 
died  in  Florence  on  March  ist,  1903,  aged  93,  had  been 
associated  with  an  extraordinary  escapade  of  Lord 
Brougham,  the  latter  having  inspired,  if  he  did  not 
actually  write,  a  letter  sent  from  the  country  to  Mr  Alfred 
Montgomery  in  which  it  was  stated  that  Mr  Leader  was 
at  the  point  of  death  and  Lord  Brougham  killed  on  the 
spot  owing  to  a  carriage  accident.  Mr  Leader  was  stand- 
ing for  Parliament  at  the  time,  and  the  chairman  of  his 
election  committee  had  already  started  off  to  take  a  last 
farewell  of  his  friend  when  the  hoax  was  discovered. 

Lord  Brougham's  strange  behaviour  in  this  matter  was 
said  to  have  been  produced  by  a  desire  to  read  his  own 
obituary  notices  and  enjoy  the  discomfiture  of  the  papers 
in  which  they  would  appear. 

Mr  Leader  had  been  at  Oxford  with  Gladstone  and 
Cannkig,  had  seen  Byron  and  Shelley,  and  was  a  friend  of 
Captain  Trelawny,  the  poets'  comrade  in  the  movement 
for  Greek  emancipation. 

A  cultivated  man  of  large  and  liberal  means  as  well  as 


28        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

a  political  critic  of  no  mean  order,  Mr  Leader  was  a  fine 
specimen  of  an  English  gentleman,  in  the  best  sense 
of  the  word. 

At  the  time  of  Queen  Victoria's  second  jubilee  England 
had  never  been  in  such  a  position  of  assured  tranquillity 
and  peace. 

A  number  of  the  older  denizens  of  Mayfair,  however, 
•were  anything  but  content.  Radicalism,  they  declared, 
was  growing  more  and  more  rampant  in  the  land,  and  the 
arch  fiend  himself  could  not  have  been  denounced  more 
fiercely  than  they  denounced  Mr  Gladstone.  After  he 
had  attempted  to  pass  Home  Rule  a  number  of  his  former 
adherents  were  especially  bitter.  The  first  Duke  of 
Westminster,  for  instance,  actually  disposed  of  a  fine 
portrait  of  the  Grand  Old  Man  by  Millais  which  had 
been  specially  painted  as  a  tribute  of  admiration. 

Strangely  enough,  Mr  Gladstone,  who  at  heart  was 
probably  a  Conservative,  typified  in  the  minds  of  his 
opponents  the  spread  of  that  Socialism  the  full  effects 
of  which  few  of  them  lived  to  see. 

In  a  way  they  were  right,  for  there  can  be  no  doubt 
but  that  the  Grand  Old  Man,  moderate  as  he  himself  was, 
paved  the  way  for  many  measures  which  have  completely 
revolutionized  our  national  life. 

It  is  likely,  however,  that  of  the  ultimate  results  of 
his  policy  he  had  not  such  a  clear  idea  as  his  great  opponent 
Disraeli,  who  had  a  far  wider  if  more  cynical  outlook 
upon  existence. 

Mr  Gladstone  was  a  "  guarded  flame  " — it  used  to  be 
said,  indeed,  that  anything  unpleasant  or  hostile  to  him 
in  the  Press  was  kept  from  coming  under  his  observation, 
while  a  devoted  circle  of  admirers  lulled  him  in  a  chronic 
condition  of  placid  self-satisfaction. 

A  large  portion  of  the  people  regarded  him  as  their 
champion  and  benefactor.  Many  gave  him  credit  for 
reforms  he  had  never  carried  through. 

"  Say  what  you  like,"  once  remarked  a  small  tradesman 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       2£ 

to  the  present  writer,  "  Gladstone  gave  us  '  one  man, 
one  vote.'  " 

This  absolutely  untrue  statement,  uttered  in  a  tone  of 
grateful  conviction,  the  speaker  firmly  believed. 

Mr  Gladstone  was  responsible  for  many  phrases,  some 
of  which  have  passed  into  everyday  language. 

Such  are,  "  local  option "  and  "  union  of  hearts," 
"  silver  streak  "  and  "  bag  and  baggage,"  "  resources  of 
civilisation  "  and  "  parliamentary  hand." 

The  dexterity  with  which  the  Grand  Old  Man  contrived 
to  extricate  himself  from  awkward  positions,  and  his 
subtlety  in  making  divergent  statements  of  his  own  seem 
to  agree,  particularly  annoyed  his  opponents. 

All  sorts  of  stories,  real  or  imaginary,  used  to  be  told 
about  him,  while  criticisms  of  his  methods  were  some- 
times funny  as  well  as  scathing. 

In  a  discussion  as  to  finding  a  rich  wife  for  a  rising 
young  politician  someone  broke  in  with,  "  Why,  I  believe 
he's  got  a  wife  already." 

"  What  does  that  matter  ?  "  said  a  cynic.  "  Gladstone 
can  always  be  put  up  to  explain  her  away." 

In  early  Victorian  days  Radicalism  was  looked  upon 
with  absolute  horror  by  the  exclusive  circles  of  Mayfair. 

When,  for  instance,  Mr  Muntz,  who  was  said  to  have 
Chartist  associations,  was  elected  a  member  for  Bir- 
mingham and  made  a  magistrate,  certain  aristocratic 
households  declared  that  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to 
send  their  valuables  to  Coutts',  shut  up  their  town  and 
country  houses  and  go  abroad  till  the  revolutionary 
frenzy  should  have  worn  itself  out. 

Mr  Muntz,  it  may  be  added,  was  the  first  member  of 
the  House  of  Commons  to  wear  a  beard,  which  was  con- 
sidered another  symptom  of  his  anarchistic  tendencies. 

The  House  of  Commons  formerly  did  not  like  lawyers 
and  was  very  distrustful  of  their  sincerity. 

The  old-fashioned  Members  of  Parliament  realized  that 
a  successful  legal  career  entailed  being  something  of  an 


SO        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

actor,  and  that  a  counsel  is  accustomed  to  be  the  paid 
advocate  of  any  side. 

One  old  gentleman  thoroughly  permeated  with  this  idea 
never  lost  an  opportunity  of  saying  bitter  things  about 
Mr  Asquith. 

On  one  occasion,  for  instance,  he  spoke  of  the  latter 
as  combining  the  appearance  of  Oliver  Cromwell  with 
the  vacillation  of  Charles  the  First ! 

A  legal  member  who  was  wont  to  wax  eloquent  over 
the  woes  of  the  Emerald  Isle  was  known  at  heart  fully 
to  realise  what  a  hopeless  country  it  was  to  govern.  As 
one  of  his  critics  put  it,  he  was  a  humbug  who  merely 
had  a  good  platform  opinion  of  the  Irish. 

Another  Radical  lawyer,  according  to  his  enemies,  had 
got  into  Parliament  only  owing  to  his  personal  resemblance 
to  the  pictures  of  the  Messiah  ! 

On  the  other  hand,  the  late  Sir  Frank  Lockwood,  a 
man  of  great  personal  charm,  fond  of  sending  his 
friends  whimsical  caricatures  of  his  own  composition,  was 
universally  popular. 

The  public  at  large  would  appear  to  have  no  very 
great  respect  for  prominent  political  men. 

On  one  occasion  at  Ipswich  when  large  crowds  were 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  Mr  Balfour,  an  old  lady,  thinking 
that  it  was  the  opening  of  the  quarter  sessions,  said  : 
"  Well,  I  suppose  if  he's  done  anything  wrong  he'll  have  to 
suffer  for  it." 

Just  before  the  son  of  a  famous  Cabinet  Minister  was 
elected  to  the  House  of  Commons,  he  is  said  to  have  met 
his  old  nurse  and  told  her  he  was  going  in  for  politics. 

"  For  politics  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  "  Oh  surely 
I  should  have  thought  that  two  in  the  family — your 
father  and  Mr  Richard — were  enough.  Why  don't  you 
go  in  for  something  useful  ?  " 

The  present  House  of  Commons  is,  with  some  rare 
exceptions,  a  miserable  mass  of  pawns  and  placemen 
moved  hither  and  thither  according  to  the  fancies  of 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       31 

the  wire-pullers  to  whom  so  many  of  them  owe  their 
election. 

Everything  to  these  men  seems  to  resolve  itself  into  a 
question  of  votes. 

The  Dean  of  St  Paiil's,  Dr  Inge,  one  of  our  few  sane 
social  critics,  often  hits  the  right  nail  on  the  head: 
"  To  talk  to  the  average  Member  of  Parliament  (said 
he  in  a  speech)  one  might  suppose  that  the  ballot 
box  was  a  sort  of  Urim  and  Thummim  for  ascertaining 
the  Divine  will.  This  superstition  was  simply  their  old 
iriend  the  divine  right  of  kings  standing  on  its  head, 
which  was  even  more  ridiculous  in  the  new  posture  than 
in  the  old."  His  statement  that  it  was  quite  as  easy  to 
hypnotize  oneself  into  imbecility  by  repeating  in  solemn 
tones  "  Progress,  democracy,  corporate  unity,"  as  by 
repeating  the  blessed  word  "  Mesopotamia,"  was  also 
very  happy. 

A  critic  of  the  past,  after  enumerating  various  of  what 
he  considered  its  minor  evils,  has  said  : 

"  There  was  no  organised  labour,  no  votes  for  women, 
no  working  class  franchise,  no  ballot-box.  There  were  no 
Council  schools,  no  school  boards.  There  was  no  technical 
education.  There  was  no  Married  Woman's  Property 
Act." 

Granted;  but  there  were  no  strikes  or  social  unrest, 
manners  were  better  and  so  was  workmanship,  nor  was 
the  number  of  divorces  anything  like  as  great  as  it  is 
to-day. 

It  should  not  be  forgotten  that  in  a  not  very  indirect 
manner  certain  of  our  politicians  were  responsible  for 
the  Great  War. 

Time  after  time  they  were  warned  in  vain,  and  time 
after  time  they  reiterated  their  disbelief  in  all  hostile 
intentions  on  the  part  of  Germany,  who  they  declared 
loved  peace.  And  so  she  did  as  long  as  it  gave  her  time 
to  prepare  for  war  ! 

Had  they  been  statesmen  instead  of  politicians  they 


32        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

would  have  made  it  clear  to  that  Power  that  in  the  event 
of  an  attack  on  France  England  would  fight. 

Cravens  as  they  were  they  dared  not  do  what  would 
most  probably  have  averted  the  tragedy,  and,  babbling 
of  peace,  almost  submerged  Europe  in  floods  of  blood. 

As  to  the  internal  government  of  the  country  the  main 
ideas  of  modern  politicians  seem  to  be  the  multiplication 
of  meddlesome  laws. 

It  would  be  a  good  thing  if  Members  of  Parliament  were- 
made  to  realize  that  the  limit  of  interference  with  personal 
liberty  has  been  reached. 

Writing  in  the  'fifties  of  the  last  century,  a  foreign 
critic  said :  "  The  ambition  of  free  self  government,  which 
characterises  the  English,  is  altogether  unknown  to  the 
French.  Hence  they  can  die  for  liberty,  but  they  cannot 
live  for  it."  •  Alas,  the  very  opposite  is  now  the  case  I 

Aided  by  classes  blinded  to  true  freedom  by  the  culture 
of  morbid  and  pharisaical  feelings,  Parliament  within 
the  last  few  years  has  struck  heavily  against  the  liberties 
of  the  great  mass  of  the  people. 

At  times  one  is  inclined  to  wonder  whether  this  curious 
tendency  to  repress  personal  liberty  is  not  the  result 
of  some  plan  conceived  by  Nature — "  Cette  puissance 
rusee  qui  nous  exploite,"  as  Renan  called  her — to  assimi- 
late the  life  of  humanity  to  that  of  the  ants  and  hive 
bees,  whose  whole  existence  is  devoted  and  whose  pleasures 
are  sacrificed  in  order  to  keep  together  rigidly  ordered 
socialistic  communities  where  no  individual  enjoys  a 
liberty  worth  having,  while  working  in  an  almost  frenzied 
manner  for  the  next  generation,  which  in  its  turn  is  to- 
do  the  same.  The  contrast  between  the  life  of  the  honey 
bee  and  that  of  its  cousin  the  humble  bee,  which  has 
escaped  the  tryanny  of  the  hive,  is  overwhelmingly  in 
favour  of  the  latter. 

Unfortunately  the  attitude  of  the  public  towards 
social  questions  would  seem  to  be  an  almost  blind 
acquiescence  in  any  nostrum  prescribed  by  faddists. 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR   33 

The  old  English  love  of  personal  liberty  seems  to  have 
died  away.  Though  a  good  many  people  grumble,  the 
majority  will  tell  you  that  they  are  too  busy  to  devote 
time  to  the  consideration  of  such  subjects. 

Well-meaning  in  the  main,  the  average  individual 
reminds  one  of  the  American  judge  who,  elected  more 
on  account  of  his  popularity  than  his  knowledge  of  the 
law,  told  a  jury :  "  If  you  think  the  prisoner  guilty  you 
ought  to  convict  him  ;  if  innocent,  acquit  him ;  but  if, 
like  me,  you  don't  understand  the  case  or  the  evidence, 
why,  then,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  know  what  you  ought  to  do! " 

Thoughtful  men  are  beginning  to  realize  that  the 
triumph  of  that  democracy  of  which  they  hoped  so- 
much  need  not  of  necessity  produce  an  immediate 
Utopia ;  perhaps  after  all,  when  the  history  of  the 
twentieth  century  comes  to  be  written,  the  forecasts 
of  some  of  the  staunch  old  Tories  of  a  past  generation 
will  be  found  to  have  been  based  upon  only  too  solid 
grounds.  At  present  all  that  can  be  hoped  for  is  that, 
with  the  progress  of  time,  democracy  may  grow  out  of 
itself  and  realize  those  fundamental  facts  of  existence 
the  importance  of  which  was  thoroughly  recognized  in 
former  days. 

The  English  aristocracy  of  the  past  included  a  good 
many  men  of  a  type  now  pretty  well  extinct,  that  is, 
polished  English  gentlemen  of  the  old  school  who, 
besides  being  classical  scholars,  possessed  a  remarkable 
knowledge  of  both  English  and  foreign  literature.  These 
qualities,  together  with  a  keen  sense  of  humour,  a  delicate 
wit,  and  a  ready  appreciation  of  both  the  grave  and  gay 
side  of  nature,  rendered  them  charming  companions. 
Such  men,  reproducing  in  themselves  the  qualities  which 
marked  a  century  of  culture,  of  refinement,  of  learning, 
and  of  distinction,  have  now  passed  away,  the  type 
been  crushed  out  by  an  age  which,  though  fond  of 
babbling  of  the  joys  of  intellectual  knowledge,  has  little 
real  appreciation  of  it. 

3 


34        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

To-day,  everyone  without  exception  has  a  good  chance 
of  learning,  yet  the  output  of  great  men  and  notable 
characters  has  shrunk  practically  to  nil ! 

The  cause  of  this  may  not  improbably  be  the  stamping 
cut  of  individuality,  resulting  from  the  multitude  of  laws, 
regulations  and  restrictions  with  which  every  individual 
is  now  hedged  in  and  threatened. 

The  result  of  over-legislation  and  over-regulation  can 
only  be  the  metamorphosis  of  the  people  at  large  into 
mere  factory  workers,  mechanically  drilled  into  doing  the 
same  thing  at  the  same  time,  all  tendencies  to  originality 
being  unconsciously  crushed  out  of  them. 

The  Victorian  Era  never  lacked  literary  preachers 
with  voices  which  rang  all  over  England  with  telling 
effect. 

It  seems  strange  now,  to  think  that  in  that  age  a  man 
might,  in  the  space  of  a  few  days,  have  seen  and  spoken 
to  Darwin,  Huxley,  Tyndall,  Froude,  Herbert  Spencer, 
Freeman,  Ruskin,  Carlyle,  Tennyson,  Matthew  Arnold, 
Browning  and  Swinburne. 

The  main  point  about  these  men,  and  in  particular 
about  Huxley,  was  that  they  were  uncompromising 
searchers  after  knowledge  and  after  truth. 

Besides  being  an  eminent  scientist,  Huxley  wrote 
beautifully  clear  English  and  had  an  excellent  style, 
nor  was  he  devoid  of  humour. 

Meeting  a  journalist  whom  he  had  known  as  a  mid- 
shipman in  the  days  when  he  was  a  surgeon  in  the  Navy, 
the  former,  who  did  not  appreciate  Huxley's  anthropo- 
logical researches,  told  him  that  he  cared  nothing  for 
"homo"  except  as  a  creature  of  historical  tradition. 

"  And  I,"  was  the  reply,  "  except  as  a  compound  of 
gas  and  water.  If,"  added  he,  "  we  were  both  better 
educated  than  we  are  we  should  know  how  better  to 
respect  each  other's  studies." 

The  philosophic  doubt  with  which  Huxley  was  inspired 
was  finely  indicated  by  the  three  lines — taken  from  a 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       35 

noble  poem  of  his  wife's — which,  by  his  special  direction, 
were  inscribed  upon  his  tombstone  at  Finchley: 

"  Be  not  afraid,  ye  waiting  hearts  that  weep; 
For  God  still  giveth  His  beloved  sleep  ; 
And  if  an  endless  sleep  He  wills — so  best." 

To-day,  though  in  literature  we  have  some  masters  of 
style — Mr  Edmund  Gosse,  Mr  Max  Beerbohm  and  others 
— literary  preachers  except  Mr  Rudyard  Kipling  seem  not 
to  exist. 

There  are  no  vibrant  voices  to  search  the  soul,  or 
dreamers  of  great  dreams — in  short,  the  age  is  barren  of 
transcendent  literary  genius. 

This  dearth  of  high  literary  production,  it  has  been 
alleged,  may  partly  be  accounted  for  by  the  absorption 
of  so  many  able  minds  in  journalism  or  work  which  is 
journalistic  in  character.  The  late  George  Steveens, 
who  met  with  such  an  untimely  death  from  fever  at 
Ladysmith  during  the  Boer  war,  might,  it  has  been 
said,  have  developed  into  a  second  Macaulay,  possessing 
as  he  did  something  of  that  great  historian's  faculty  of 
description,  command  of  language,  and  capacity  for 
assimilating  facts. 

The  general  average  of  writing  to-day  is  probably 
higher  than  in  the  past,  but  the  age  does  not  seem  to 
favour  the  development  of  great  writers. 

The  editor  of  a  great  paper  once  remarked  that  the 
world  was  divided  into  people  who  knew  what  they  were 
writing  about  but  could  not  write,  and  people  who  could 
write  and  did  not  know  what  they  were  writing  about. 

The  combination  of  real  knowledge  and  literary 
faculty  is  rarely  to  be  met  with,  and  were  it  more  common 
than  it  is,  would  probably  not  be  appreciated  by  a  public 
which  is  becoming  more  and  more  used  to  a  daily  diet 
of  snapshots  and  film  favourites. 

There  is  no  newspaper  editor  who  enjoys  the  prestige 


36        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

of  John  Delane,  the  social  influence  of  whose  articles 
in  the  Times  was  recognized  by  Queen  Victoria,  who 
on  one  occasion  wrote  him  a  personal  letter  of  appro- 
bation. 

The  pressmen  of  his  age  were,  I  believe,  far  more  in 
touch  with  the  life  of  London  as  it  was  lived  by  different 
classes  than  those  of  to-day. 

The  powers  of  editors  of  great  newspapers  like  Delane 
was  fully  recognized  by  Society,  which  then  was  a  real 
force  in  English  politics,  and  as  far  as  serious  matters 
were  concerned  the  Press  was  kept  in  pretty  close  touch 
with  Mayfair. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  great  number  of  pressmen  led 
very  Bohemian  lives,  frequented  the  music  halls,  High- 
bury Barn,  and  other  resorts  now  swept  away,  thereby 
acquiring  a  real  knowledge  of  humanity  and  its  change- 
less ways. 

In  consequence  of  this,  Puritanism  was  kept  within  due 
bounds  and  Londoners  enabled  to  amuse  themselves 
more  or  less  as  they  liked. 

A  typical  and  delightful  pressman  of  those  days  was 
the  late  Mr  Joseph  Knight,  a  clever  and  hardworking 
writer  with  a  fondness  for  convivial  society  and  late 
hours  which  did  not  prevent  him  from  living  to  a 
great  age. 

To-day  there  are  few  newspaper  writers  who  do  not  go 
home  as  early  as  they  can,  and  fewer  still  who  have  any 
sympathy  with  Bohemian  habits.  Consequently,  when 
there  is  any  question  of  still  further  curtailing  personal 
liberty  as  regards  the  closing  of  music-hall  lounges, 
dancing  clubs  or  the  like,  the  Press,  far  from  making 
any  protest,  publishes  sensational  articles  calculated  to 
assist  the  machinations  of  the  meddlesome  busybodies 
who  have  now  so  effectually  made  London  at  night  the 
dullest  city  in  the  world. 

The  literary  free-lance  of  other  days — fearless, 
trenchant  and  sparkling,  has  entirely  disappeared. 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       37 

A  typical  representative  of  this  style  of  writer  was 
Grenville  Murray,  who,  with  Edmund  Yates,  projected 
the  World  and  thus  founded  the  Society  journalism 
which,  after  flourishing  in  late  Victorian  and  Edwardian 
days,  has  now  long  been  on  the  wane. 

In  the  'seventies  and  'eighties  Society  journalism  repre- 
sented by  the  World,  Truth,  and  Vanity  Fair  flourished 
exceedingly.  Everyone  abused  these  papers,  but  every- 
one read  them. 

From  time  to  time  some  indiscreet  paragraph  landed 
an  editor  in  trouble,  and  even,  as  in  the  case  of  Mr 
Edmund  Yates — who  suffered  for  the  fault  of  one  of 
his  titled  contributors — in  prison. 

Vanity  Fair  owed  its  popularity  largely  to  the  excellent 
cartoons  of  Pellegrini  and  later  on  of  Sir  Leslie  Ward. 

"  Celebrities  at  Home  "  in  the  World  was  generally 
worth  reading,  while  Labouchere  took  care  to  keep  the 
columns  of  Truth  bright,  amusing  and  up  to  date. 

For  twenty-two  years  the  late  Mr  Jerningham  wrote 
"  Letters  from  the  Linkman "  which  week  by  week 
maintained  a  high  standard  of  English  prose  as  well  as 
being  full  of  topical  interest. 

The  day  of  purely  Society  papers  seems  for  the  time 
being  to  have  passed,  the  chronicles  of  aristocratic  doings 
and  sayings  not  being  in  such  demand  as  was  formerly 
the  case. 

Truth  alone  seems  to  have  withstood  the  hostile  forces 
which  have  driven  practically  all  its  competitors  out 
of  the  field ;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  besides  containing  much 
accurate  information  it  continues  to  live  up  to  its  old 
reputation  for  brightness  and  vivacity. 

While  the  direct  influence  of  the  daily  Press — in  the 
past  so  frequently  exercised  for  good — has  decreased, 
the  indirect  effects  of  its  activities  have  undoubtedly 
increased. 

A  notable  instance  of  this  was  the  success  of  the 
Suffragette  agitation. 


38        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Whether  it  be  a  good  thing  or  a  bad  thing  that  women 
should  have  votes,  it  is  quite  certain  that  they  would 
not  have  obtained  them  for  many  a  long  year  to  come 
had  it  not  been  for  the  publicity  given  to  the  movement 
by  the  Press,  which  could  have  killed  the  whole  agitation- 
by  silence  concerning  those  who  carried  it  on. 

Hunger-striking  is  another  newspaper  creation. 

Would  any  prisoner  care  to  undergo  such  an  ordeal 
were  he  not  certain  that  the  Press,  or  at  least  a  section 
of  it,  would  turn  him  into  a  martyr  ? 

It  cannot  seriously  be  maintained  that  the  rise  to 
power  of  'democracy  has  coincided  with  anything  but  a 
degradation  of  literary  taste.  Under  present  con- 
ditions, indeed,  it  would  be  extraordinary  were  it  other- 
wise, for  of  the  vast  multitude  of  workers  how  few  have 
the  time  or  the  capacity  for  the  cultivation  of  their 
minds  ? 

Nor  has  popular  education  improved  matters.  In  the 
old  days  clever  boys,  even  when  working  in  the  most 
arduous  trades,  seem  to  have  snatched  sufficient  hours 
to  give  themselves  quite  a  fair  education,  and  they  often 
rose  to  high  positions.  There  were  many  self-made  men 
who  achieved  wealth  and  fame. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  complete  triumph  of  democracy 
has  weakened  rather  than  strengthened  individual  effort, 
nor  has  it  tended  to  assist  culture  or  art. 

The  great  mass  of  the  proletariat,  devoid  as  it  is,  and 
ever  must  be,  of  any  appreciation  of  the  real  meaning 
of  life,  is  naturally  unwilling  to  admit  that  the  existence 
of  a  leisured  class  is  necessary  for  that  progress  which 
is  the  ostensible  aim  of  all  advocates  of  democratic 
reform. 

To  the  multitude  fond  of  facile  generalizations  and 
crude  sentimentality,  a  spacious  and  luxurious  life  of 
ease,  not  unnaturally,  seems  inseparable  from  vice — 
hence  the  sure  popularity  of  newspaper  lectures  on  the 
sins  of  Society  and  kindred  topics. 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       39 

The  British  public  indeed  never  tires  of  hearing  about 
the  life  of  gilded  vice  led  by  persons  of  rank  or  wealth. 

Society  has  always  attracted  preachers  and  writers 
seeking  an  easy  subject  for  attack.  It  is  constantly 
blamed  for  the  vast  sums  expended  in  entertaining. 
This,  after  all,  circulates  money  and  is  good  for  trade  ; 
nor  is  it  clear  why  people  in  a  position  to  do  so  should 
not  entertain  their  friends,  or  even  their  enemies  for  that 
matter. 

Accusations  of  frivolity  levelled  at  the  modern  society 
woman  are  perhaps  more  justified.  Nevertheless  it  is 
well  to  remember  that  years  ago  Mrs  Lynn  Linton 
created  a  sensation  by  a  savage  attack  upon  the  girl 
of  the  period  in  the  Saturday  Review. 

In  all  probability  the  young  lady  of  the  'sixties  and 
'seventies  was  no  worse  than  her  predecessors.  It  is  not 
fair  to  indict  a  whole  sex  for  the  follies  of  a  few. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  women  then  were  what  women 
are  to-day,  a  very  fair  reflection  of  the  condition  of  the 
opposite  sex. 

The  pity  is  that  while  a  number  of  modern  women  are 
sensible  and  healthy-minded,  a  certain  section  seem  always 
to  be  wishing  themselves  elsewhere  than  where  they  are — 
thinking  of  something  else  than  what  they  are  doing,  or 
of  someone  else  than  the  person  to  whom  they  are  speaking. 

Prosperity  does  not  seem  to  bring  happiness  to  a  good 
many  of  those  wealthy  ladies,  who  seem  ever  anxiously 
trying  to  banish  tedium  from  their  too  luxurious  lives 
by  taking  up  some  fad  or  other,  while  their  conversation 
is  largely  made  up  of  laments  as  to  the  boredom  of  their 
existence. 

What  a  difference  from  the  great  ladies  of  the  old 
school,  one  of  whom  used  to  say  that  she  had  been  taught 
that  it  was  ill-bred  to  complain  even  of  the  weather. 

They  enjoy  nothing,  do  nothing  well,  and  please 
nobody. 

Unsuited  even  to  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  which  takes 


40        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

up  all  their  time,  their  selfishness  is  unredeemed  by 
strength,  a  constant  fear  of  what  other  people  may  think 
of  them,  destroying  that  ease  of  mind  which  is  incom- 
parably the  most  valuable  of  all  possessions. 

Ease  of  indolence — the  smoothness  of  the  stagnant 
pool — they  have,  it  is  true,  in  abundance.  Like  drones 
in  a  hive,  that  waste  and  devour  the  honey  which  the 
labouring  bees  have  gathered,  they  accept  the  super- 
abundance around  them  just  as  if  it  had  been  gained  by 
their  own  efforts. 

As  a  cynic  said,  they  want  to  eat  cherries  in  winter 
and  oysters  in  summer  ! 

These  are  the  sort  of  people  who  spend  vast  sums  in 
turning  the  interior  of  fine  old  Georgian  houses  into  an 
indifferent  copy  of  what  some  decorator  assures  them  is 
Louis  XV  or  Louis  XVI,  both  of  which  styles  are  gener- 
ally out  of  place  in  houses  of  English  construction. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  these  ladies  soon  get  tired  of  any 
style,  and  if  handled  by  a  favourite  adviser  would  cheer- 
fully turn  a  boudoir  into  a  replica  of  a  Kaffir  kraal. 

In  most  cases  too  lazy  to  study  house  decoration 
themselves,  they  are  devoid  of  any  original  ideas,  being 
best  satisfied  when  copying  some  room  they  have  seen 
at  Mrs  So-and-So's  or  Lady  Somebody-else's. 

The  failings  specified  above  are,  however,  the  result  of 
folly  rather  than  of  vice.  The  majority  of  these  foolish 
women  lead  quite  inoffensive  lives. 

Society's  alleged  fondness  for  high  play  is  another  cause 
of  offence  to  its  critics. 

For  the  last  two  hundred  years  gambling  has  been 
more  or  less  popular ;  among  well-to-do  people  in  this 
respect  there  has  been  little  change. 

The  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is  that  in  this  as 
in  its  morals  Society  is  no  better  or  worse  than  it  was 
in  the  past. 

Modern  conversation  is  undoubtedly  of  a  freer  kind 
than  that  which  prevailed  during  the  Victorian  Era. 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       41 

This,  however,  contrary  to  the  views  expressed  by  a 
number  of  critics,  does  not  necessarily  indicate  any 
deterioration  in  morality. 

The  fact  is  that  all  the  world  over  the  wealthy  are  to  a 
great  extent  cosmopolitan,  and  being  so,  become  emanci- 
pated from  the  fundamental  ideas  of  the  mass  of  their 
countrymen  or  women. 

The  true  spirit  of  a  people  is  not  to  be  found  in  its 
upper  social  strata,  and  the  mass  of  English  opinion  still 
remains  overwhelmingly  prudish  and  Puritan.  It  does 
not  appear  always  to  have  been  so,  but  is  so  to-day ; 
only  the  well-to-do  class  which  travels  and  sees  countries 
not  dominated  by  the  Puritan  blight  learns  to  value 
freedom  of  expression  as  well  as  freedom  of  life. 

This  is  what  shocks  the  critics  who  have  had  no  chance 
of  becoming  freed  from  the  mental  limitations  imposed 
upon  them  by  a  smug  environment,  causing  those  sub- 
jected to  it  to  confuse  prudery  with  refinement.  Such 
folk  entirely  ignore  the  historical  fact  that  the  French 
noblesse  of  the  old  regime,  who  in  art,  letters  and  life 
were  probably  the  most  cultured  and  refined  people  who 
ever  lived,  were  excessively  free  in  their  conversation. 

The  fierce  attacks  by  a  writer  calling  himself  "  The 
Gentleman  with  the  Duster  "  in  a  Sunday  paper  merely 
reiterate  the  old  charges  which  are  always  being  made 
against  London  society. 

When  all  is  said  and  done  the  writer  in  question  is 
merely  a  Puritan  seeking  to  dragoon  the  world  into  virtue. 

Giving  his  views  in  the  London  Magazine  as  to  the  con- 
stitution of  an  ideal  government  for  England,  he  advocates 
what  is  in  reality  mere  intolerant  repression  to  enforce 
public  morality. 

In  defiance  of  every  Christian  precept  a  policy  of  hound- 
ing of  Cyprians  off  the  streets  has  always  been  popular 
with  social  reformers. 

Maria  Theresa,  whom  a  contemporary  very  rightly  said 
deserved  to  suffer  the  worst  tortures  of  hell  for  her  cruel 


42        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

behaviour  towards  unfortunate  women,  tried  it  with 
lamentable  results.  Attempts  to  coerce  the  public  into 
virtue  have  always  failed  in  the  past,  as  they  will  always 
fail  in  the  future. 

The  "  Gentleman  with  the  Duster  "  further  wishes  Mrs 
Bramwell  Booth  to  be  appointed  Home  Secretary. 

What  sort  of  time  we  should  have  under  this  worthy 
Salvation  leader's  rule  can  be  gathered  from  her  statement 
to  an  interviewer. 

While  showing  no  eagerness  to  hold  the  office  which 
the  "  Gentleman  with  the  Duster  "  wishes  to  thrust  upon 
her,  she  gave  a  sketch  of  various  measures  which,  during 
her  term  of  office,  she  would  try  to  get  carried  through. 

The  chief  of  these,  said  she,  was  the  shutting  up  of 
all  public-houses,  which,  of  course,  practically  means 
"  Prohibition." 

The  fact  is,  in  too  many  cases  the  modern  social 
reformer  is  not  a  real  social  reformer  at  all,  but  merely 
our  old  Cromwellian  friend  "  Praise  God  Barebones  " 
in  modern  guise.  Alas,  that  by  means  of  elaborate 
camouflage  he  should  so  often  succeed  in  persuading 
the  British  public  that  in  the  curtailment  of  personal 
independence  lies  the  path  of  progress  ! 

With  liberty  on  his  lips  but  tyranny  in  his  heart,  he 
seeks  to  bring  their  lives  into  complete  accord  with  a 
standard  of  bourgeois  respectability,  calculated  to  stamp 
out  all  real  joy  of  living. 

Everyone  is  to  be  ground  down  to  the  same  dead 
level  of  monotonous  existence. 

A  really  civilized  individual  is  he  or  she  who  is  qualified 
to  live  among  those  who,  according  to  Rabelais,  spent 
their  life  in  the  Abbey  of  Thelema — not  in  laws,  statutes 
or  rules  but  according  to  their  own  free  will  and  pleasure, 
the  essential  clause  in  the  strictest  tie  of  their  order  being 

Do  WHAT  THOU  WILT; 
because    men   that    are   free,  well-born,    well-bred   and 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  MAYFAIR       43 

conversant  in  honest  companies  have  naturally  an  instinct 
and  spur  that  prompteth  them  unto  virtuous  actions, 
and  withdraws  them  from  vice,  which  is  called  honour. 
Those  same  men,  when  by  base  subjection  and  constraint 
they  are  brought  under  and  kept  down,  turn  aside  from 
that  noble  disposition  by  which  they  formerly  were 
inclined  to  virtue,  to  shake  off  and  break  that  bond  of 
servitude  wherein  they  are  so  tyrannously  enslaved ; 
for  it  is  agreeable  with  the  nature  of  man  to  long  after 
things  forbidden,  and  to  desire  what  is  denied  us. 


Ill 

THE  'EIGHTIES 

OF  the  men  and  women  of  the  "  'eighties  "  there 
are  not  many  left.  With  the  exception  of  Lord 
Chaplin  practically  all  the  old  sporting  school 
have  gone  ;  and,  of  the  politicians,  Mr  Arthur  Balfour 
alone  is  still  in  harness. 

Lord  Rosebery,  in  his  day  both  sportsman  and  politi- 
cian, lives  a  retired  life. 

Glancing  at  the  annual  number  of  a  society  weekly, 
1881-1882,  full  of  portraits  of  well-known  people  in 
society,  I  find  only  one  who  still  survives. 

This  is  a  young  officer  in  the  uniform  of  the  House- 
hold Cavalry,  which  was  at  that  time  worn  by  that  most 
popular  and  witty  raconteur  Mr  Harry  Higgins. 

Now  engaged  in  purely  peaceful  pursuits  he  would  appear 
at  that  time  to  have  tempered  the  career  of  arms  with  a 
fondness  for  the  Turf. 

"  Fresh  from  stern  duty  (or  Newmarket)  comes 
The  gallant  Higgins,  now  from  bugles,  drums, 
.    Happily  free." 

May  he  long  live  to  delight  the  large  circle  of  friends 
whom  he  has  made  since  his  cuirass  was  laid  aside. 

Though  the  life  of  an  officer  in  the  Household  Cavalry 
was  easy  enough  in  the  'eighties  it  had  even  then  become 
more  strenuous  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  before. 

In  the  'fifties,  for  instance,  when  it  was  difficult  to 
obtain  officers  for  this  branch  of  the  service,  one  of  the 
regiments  of  the  Life  Guards  being  ordered  out  of  London 


THE  'EIGHTIES  45 

on  active  service  to  Aldershot,  a  wealthy  captain  at  once 
tendered  his  resignation.  His  Royal  Highness  the  General 
Commanding-in-Chief,  however,  declined  to  accept  it,  and 
his  colonel  eventually  prevailed  upon  the  gallant  officer 
to  remain  in  the  regiment  and  undergo  for  a  short  period 
the  vicissitudes  of  camp  life. 

It  was  during  the  early  'eighties  that  the  sacred  lamp 
of  Burlesque  burnt  so  brightly  at  the  Old  Gaiety. 

Nelly  Farren  was  unique  ;  there  is  no  one  on  the  stage 
to-day  who  remotely  resembles  her  in  manner  or  in  style. 

In  the  famous  Gaiety  burlesques  the  public  applauded 
her  because  they  subconsciously  realised  that  she  was  the 
embodiment  of  a  certain  kind  of  London  life — its  joys 
and  also  its  sorrows. 

For  there  was  real  pathos  in  the  work  of  this  clever 
actress,  whose  Cockney  humour  was  at  times  mellowed 
by  a  sense  of  that  sadness  which  clings  about  humble 
life. 

Without  being  exactly  pretty,  Nelly  Fan-en,  with  her 
trim  figure  and  neat  legs,  made  an  ideal  "  principal  boy," 
full  of  dash,  vigour  and  go,  which  was  enhanced  by  the 
somewhat  languorous  methods  of  Miss  Kate  Vaughan, 
whose  memory  as  Morgiana  and  other  parts  still  lingers 
in  the  recollection  of  many  an  old  playgoer. 

Alas,  that  the  old  Gaiety  stars  will,  as  they  used  so 
blithely  to  sing,  "  never  come  back  any  more."  The  pity 
is  they  have  left  no  successors  behind  them. 

In  the  'eighties  plays  very  sensibly  began  late,  so 
that  people  were  not  obliged  to  hurry  over  their  dinner. 
Had  this  been  the  case  the  digestions  of  a  certain  number 
of  young  gentlemen  known  as  the  "  Crutch  and  Toothpick 
Brigade  "  must  have  become  seriously  impaired,  for  quite 
a  number  occupied  the  same  stalls  night  after  night. 

The  main  characteristics  of  this  social  coterie,  most 
of  whom  came  from  Mayfair,  were  a  black  silver- 
mounted  crutched  stick,  a  toothpick  held  languidly 
between  the  teeth,  and  a  silk-lined  Inverness  cape. 


46        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

The  crutch  and  toothpick  brigade  were  laughed  at 
in  the  Press,  and  according  to  caricatures  a  vacuous 
expression  was  habitual  with  most  of  its  members. 
Nevertheless  some  of  them  were  sharp  enough. 

One  young  fellow,  supposed  to  have  but  moderate  means, 
attracted  a  good  deal  of  comment  by  being  constantly 
seen  in  company  with  a  fair  divinity  of  burlesque,  noted 
for  her  jewels  and  gorgeous  attire. 

"  I  say,  old  fellow,"  said  an  acquaintance,  noted  for 
his  biting  tongue,  "  people  are  beginning  to  talk  about 
you,  you  know." 

"  Are  they  ?     Favourably,  I  hope." 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  old  chap,  while  some  say 
you  pay  the  expenses  of  that  pretty  lady  you  go  about 
with,  others  declare  that  she  pays  yours." 

"  Well,"  was  the  reply,  "  the  only  thing  I  care  about  is 
a  third  category  which  minds  its  own  business." 

The  man-about-town  of  the  'seventies  and  'eighties, 
even  when  well  off,  seldom  lived  in  luxurious  or  even 
comfortable  rooms.  For  the  most  part  he  frequented 
lodgings  which  would  be  thought  wretched  to-day. 

Horsehair  furniture,  frayed  carpets  and  a  heavy 
chiffonier  relieved  by  indifferent  engravings  dealing 
with  Queen  Victoria  or  with  sport  are  scarcely  enli- 
vening surroundings,  yet  it  was  amidst  such  things  that 
he  cheerfully  passed  his  days.  Bathrooms  were  as  yet 
very  rare,  and  the  accommodation,  in  every  way,  very 
far  from  being  luxurious ;  nevertheless  he  put  up  with  it 
all  without  a  grumble. 

A  few  super-sybarites,  it  is  true,  did  have  luxurious 
chambers,  but  the  majority  oi  club  men  were  content  to 
occupy  rooms  very  similar  to  those  they  frequented  in 
their  undergraduate  days,  when  for  55.  they  procured 
bed  and  breakfast  somewhere  in  the  region  around  Jermyn 
Street. 

On  the  other  hand,  many  a  man  who  would  have  grudged 
the  expense  of  making  for  himself  a  really  comfortable 


THE  'EIGHTIES  47 

little  home,  thought  nothing  of  spending  thirty  shillings 
a  day  (and  a  good  tip  beside)  upon  a  private  hansom  which 
from  about  midday  till  closing  hours  remained  at  his  beck 
and  call. 

And  very  smart,  too,  these  well-horsed  vehicles  were, 
piloted  by  a  nutty  and  knowing-looking  driver  who  had 
his  London  at  his  finger  ends. 

This  generation,  though  it  may  have  been  somewhat 
frivolous,  did  a  good  deal  to  relax  social  restrictions. 
It  upset  many  old-world  conventionalities  ;  it  inaugurated 
the  habit  of  dining  and  supping  at  restaurants ;  and 
it  helped  to  emancipate  its  woman-kind  from  various 
unwritten  ordinances  which  had  hitherto  limited  their 
enjoyments.  It  was  a  good-humoured  and  a  good- 
natured  generation,  fond  of  amusement  and  sociability, 
which  assured  the  success  of  the  Bachelors'  Club  when 
it  was  founded  in  1881. 

The  Orleans,  it  may  be  noted,  was  then  already 
flourishing,  and  its  cuisine,  with  good  reason,  as  highly 
esteemed  as  it  is  to-day. 

White's  Club  before  1888  contained  very  few  young 
members — it. was  indeed  exceedingly  difficult  for  anyone 
to  get  elected  at  all. 

Being,  as  it  was,  the  cherished  haunt  of  a  number  of 
old  bucks,  apt  to  forget  that  they  too  had  been  young, 
the  freedom  of  its  sacred  portals  became  more  and  more 
restricted  as  time  went  on. 

To  such  a  pitch  was  this  exclusiveness  carried  that 
eventually,  scarcely  any  new  members  having  been 
elected,  the  Club  very  nearly  came  to  an  end.  This, 
however,  was  averted  by  the  intervention  of  the  Honour- 
able Algernon  Bourke,  who  took  the  whole  place  over, 
remodelled  the  premises  and  secured  a  large  number  of 
candidates,  with  the  result  that  within  a  short  time  the 
old  Club  was  once  more  upon  a  sound  footing. 

Mr  Bourke,  besides  making  certain  structural  altera- 
tions, which  included  turning  the  courtyard  into  a  billiard- 


48        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

room,  was  responsible  for  the  interesting  series  of  prints 
of  past  members  which  now  adorn  the  Club  walls. 

Some  of  these  prints  had  been  put  away  unframed 
in  the  Club  for  years,  but  a  number  were  procured  by 
him  to  complete  the  set. 

The  Marlborough  Club  originated  from  the  refusal 
of  certain  members  to  allow  smoking  in  White's.  The 
late  King,  then  Prince  of  Wales,  wished  to  smoke,  and 
after  the  motion  had  been  defeated,  mainly,  it  was  said, 
owing  to  the  arrival  of  a  strong  contingent  of  members 
from  Kensal  Green,  he  wanted  to  have  a  Club  where 
he  could  do  as  he  liked. 

A  good  many  fine  and  curious  pieces  of  furniture, 
which  have  since  disappeared,  were  at  White's  in  the 
'eighties ;  most  curious  of  all,  a  mahogany  dining  table 
with  a  net  in  the  centre.  Around  this  table  many  a 
buck  of  the  eighteenth  century  had  caroused. 

The  net  was  for  corks,  one  of  which  was  thrown  into 
it  as  every  fresh  bottle  was  brought.  Convivial  diners 
were  thus  able  easily  to  check  the  exact  number  they  had 
drunk  without  any  chance  of  being  charged  for  ones  they 
hadn't. 

A  curious  feature  of  social  life  in  London  used  to  be  the 
crazes  which  suddenly  seized  its  residents. 

In  the  'seventies  roller-skating  became  all  the  rage, 
and  rinks,  some  improvised  and  some  specially  built, 
sprang  up  in  almost  every  town  of  any  importance. 
The  mania  while  it  lasted  was  a  source  of  innumerable 
jokes  in  the  comic  papers  such  as  Punch,  Fun,  and 
Judy,  the  two  last  of  which  are  defunct.  London, 
more  especially  fashionable  London,  went  mad  about 
the  new  amusement,  which,  however,  did  not  last  as 
long  as  many  speculators  had  confidently  anticipated, 
a  great  deal  of  money  being  eventually  lost  by  those 
who,  convinced  of  the  permanency  of  the  roller- 
skating  mania,  had  invested  their  money  in  the  con- 
struction of  rinks. 


THE  'EIGHTIES  49 

About  1895  a  great  mania  arose  for  bicycling  and 
Mayfair  held  a  regular  bicycle  parade  in  Battersea 
Park,  both  sexes  and  all  ages  being  fully  represented. 
Considering  the  number  of  unskilled  riders  who  were 
to  be  seen  wending  their  way  through  the  traffic,  it  was 
wonderful  so  few  serious  accidents  occurred. 

In  spite  of  numberless  changes  Rotten  Row,  though 
its  sartorial  glories  are  gone,  still  remains  popular  with 
what  considers  itself  to  be  the  fashionable  world. 

As  late  as  the  'eighties  ladies  when  on  horseback  were 
expected  to  be  followed  by  a  groom.  Lady  Cardigan 
in  her  youth  had  created  a  sensation  by  breaking  through 
this  custom  and  thus  outraging  propriety.  There  was 
no  slackness  of  dress  about  female  riders  in  the  Row. 
In  these  days  they  wore  top  boots  and  habits  which 
showed  fine  figures,  for  most  of  which  cynics  said  fashion- 
able makers  were  responsible.  Like  the  columns  of 
certain  evening  papers,  some  of  them  would  have  been 
very  flat  without  the  padding. 

In  the  evenings  about  half-past  five  all  fashionable 
London  was  to  be  seen  in  the  park.  A  long  row  of  men 
in  top-hats  and  frock  coats  leaning  against  the  railings 
of  Rotten  Row,  looked  like  a  flock  of  birds  which  had 
settled  on  a  telegraph  wire. 

Most  of  the  bucks  of  the  old  school  had  disappeared, 
but  a  fair  number  of  white  chokers  were  still  to  be  seen, 
while  one  or  two  old  gentlemen  still  wore  the  swallow- 
tailed  coat  in  the  daytime. 

Fish  dinners  at  Greenwich  were  still  given  at  this 
time,  though  their  popularity  was  already  on  the  wane. 
People  used  to  drive  down  on  coaches,  but  the  vast 
increase  of  building  gradually  made  the  drive  less  and 
less  pleasant,  and  eventually  diners  went  down  by 
river. 

The  Ministerial  fish  dinner  was  once  a  regular  Parlia- 
mentary institution. 

The  menu  consisted  of  various  dishes  of  fish,  but  as 


50        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

a  rule  there  was  duck  and  green  peas  as  well.  The 
cooking  was  usually  good. 

The  short  jacket  in  place  of  the  dress  coat  for  small 
dinners  had  made  its  appearance  in  the  early  'eighties. 
Many  did  not  like  it,  but  nevertheless  it  was  soon  in 
a  fair  way  towards  attaining  the  ample  measure  of 
popularity  which  it  has  since  enjoyed. 

An  interesting  feature  of  the  Victorian  Era  was  the 
number  of  people  who  were  links  with  an  earlier  age, 
and  certain  well-remembered  figures  which  have  now 
long  ago  become  historic. 

In  one  of  the  numbers  of  Punch  for  1850  is  a  paper 
entitled  "  On  a  Good-looking  Young  Lady,"  and  it  is 
evidently  written  by  Thackeray.  The  subject  of  it,  then 
a  lovely  young  girl  whose  radiant  beauty  has  been 
preserved  for  later  generations  by  the  brush  of  Watts, 
was  the  same  Countess  Somers  who  died  in  1910 
aged  84. 

Lady  Somers,  it  should  be  added,  repudiated  the  idea 
that  the  great  novelist  had  written  of  her.  She  had 
known  him  well,  she  admitted,  and  he  had  been  very 
kind  to  her,  but  with  characteristic  modesty  she  always 
declared  that  it  was  not  of  her  that  he  had  written  such 
flattering  things. 

With  Countess  Somers  passed  a  link  with  the  French 
Revolution,  her  grandfather,  the  Chevalier  Antoine  de 
1'Etang,  having  been  page  to  Queen  Marie  Antoinette. 

Mr  Alfred  Montgomery,  who  might  still  have  been 
caDed  a  man-about-town  in  the  'eighties,  had  been 
private  secretary  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  brother, 
the  Marquis  Wellesley. 

The  latter's  second  wife  had  been  a  Miss  Patterson, 
whose  sister  had  married  Jerome  Bonaparte. 

The  father  of  these  two  ladies  was  a  merchant  of 
Baltimore,  and  it  is  interesting  to  recall  that  the  alliance 
in  question  caused  Lord  Houghton  to  prophesy  that 
in  the  next  century  it  would  be  looked  back  upon  as  the 


THE  'EIGHTIES  51 

foundation  of  the  American  cult  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic. 

The  Marquis  Wellesley  all  through  his  life  cherished 
an  extraordinary  love  for  his  old  school,  Eton,  where 
his  memory  is  commemorated  in  the  north  porch  of  the 
chapel  by  a  tablet  put  up  by  his  brother  the  Iron  Duke. 
On  this  is  inscribed  a  Latin  epitaph  which  Lord  Wellesley 
had  written  on  himself. 

As  rendered  in  English  by  Lord  Derby  this  begins — 

"  Long  tos't  on  Fortune's  wave,  I  come  to  rest, 
Eton>  once  more  on  thy  maternal  breast." 

Lord  Wellesley  was  buried  at  Eton,  and,  according  to 
a  request  which  he  left  behind  him,  six  weeping  willows 
were  planted  in  different  parts  of  the  playing  fields  and 
a  bench  fixed  at  a  particular  spot  which  commanded  his 
favourite  view. 

A  picturesque  figure  of  the  Mid- Victorian  Era  was  the 
Maharajah  Dhuleep  Singh,  who  having  relinquished  the 
crown  of  Lahore  worn  by  his  father,  Runjeet  Singh — 
the  Lion  of  the  Punjaub— had  adopted  Christianity  and 
become  an  English  country  gentleman. 

When  the  documents  for  the  abdication  were  ready, 
Lord  Dalhousie,  it  is  said,  tendered  them  to  the  Maharajah, 
then  quite  a  child,  with  the  remark,  "  Sign  here." 

The  ruler  of  the  Sikhs  having  signed,  the  Governor- 
General,  who  was  a  Scotchman,  presented  him  with  a 
sixpenny  Bible,  saying,  "You  have  abandoned  an  earthly 
kingdom ;  I  give  you  a  heavenly  one  !  " 

For  some  time,  while  he  was  able  to  amuse  himself 
and  entertain  lavishly,  as  he  loved  to  do,  the  Maharajah 
was  satisfied  enough ;  but  later  on  when  funds  became 
short,  he  began  to  regret  the  exchange,  which  from  a 
merely  material  point  of  view  had  certainly  not  been 
in  his  favour. 

A  splendid  shot,  his  shooting  parties  at  Elveden  made 
wonderful  bags. 


52        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

His  son,  the  late  Prince  Victor  Dhuleep  Singh,  was 
also  one  of  the  finest  game  shots  in  England. 

The  latter  was  a  man  of  highly  original  character, 
with  great  talents  never  developed  to  anything  like 
their  full  capacity.  A  striking  proof  of  the  high  quality 
of  his  mind  was  that  he  could  with  ease  master  any 
subject  he  chose  ;  with  application — which  he  lacked — 
he  might  have  done  anything. 

About  the  best  demonstration  of  his  peculiar  genius — 
for  it  was  little  else — was  his  extraordinary  aptitude  as 
a  judge  of  objets  d'art. 

Though  he  despised  all  study  as  to  style,  schools,  etc., 
and  never  troubled  to  read  books  upon  such  subjects, 
his  taste  as  a  rule  was  unerring.  A  proof  of  this  is  that 
bibelots  and  pictures  which  he  bought  for  comparatively 
moderate  sums  have  since  risen  enormously  in  value. 
At  the  time  of  their  purchase  any  idea  of  their  value 
becoming  enhanced  in  no  way  swayed  him.  He  got 
them  because  he  liked  them.  His  judgment  in  such 
matters  was  instinctively  right.  In  short,  owing  to  his 
natural  taste  and  eye  for  the  beautiful,  he  was  as  good 
an  expert  in  certain  artistic  directions  as  people  who  had 
spent  their  life  in  study  and  research. 

In  music  he  could  without  doubt  have  done  much  ; 
but  again  lack  of  application  prevented  him  from  excell- 
ing as  he  might. 

There  was  fire  and  inspiration  in  his  piano  playing, 
when  he  was  in  the  mood.  To  hear  him  rattle  off  impro- 
vised waltzes,  etc.,  of  his  own  composition,  when  in  an 
especial  vein  of  high  spirits,  was  a  revelation.  He 
played,  however,  for  the  joy  of  playing,  and  would  never 
have  supported  the  tedium  of  getting  his  compositions 
transcribed. 

His  methods  as  regards  art  and  music  followed  him 
pretty  well  into  all  other  sides  of  life.  He  was  indeed 
a  brilliant  creature  of  impulse  who  never  realized  the 
full  value  of  his  own  natural  gifts,  or  if  he  ever  did  so 


THE  'EIGHTIES  53 

preferred  not  to  trouble  about  them.  No  one  was  ever 
less  conceited  than  he  !  Priggishness,  r  edantry  and 
pose  were  totally  alien  to  his  disposition.  His  particu- 
larly keen  sense  of  humour  was  probably  one  of  the 
reasons  for  this. 

The  kindest  of  men,  his  generosity  was  absolutely 
unlimited. 

Though  at  one  time  a  quite  extraordinary  shot,  he  never 
-thought  of  speaking  of  his  performances,  as  so  many 
sporting  people  are  in  the  habit  of  doing.  He  regarded 
his  proficiency  with  the  gun  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
did  not  allude  to  it.  Latterly,  indeed,  instead  of  becom- 
ing garrulous  as  to  past  exploits  in  the  shooting  field,  he 
declared  that  everything  to  do  with  game,  except  eating 
it,  bored  him — he  might  never  have  handled  a  gun. 

Prince  Victor's  marriage  to  the  young  and  charming 
daughter  of  Lord  Coventry  proved  to  be  a  great  success. 
Indeed  no  happier  or  more  united  married  couple  ever 
existed ;  each  literally  adored  the  other,  and  their 
pleasant  camaraderie  endured  right  up  to  his  death,  which 
occurred  during  the  Great  War. 

His  brother,  Prince  Frederic  Dhuleep  Singh,  is  well 
known  as  an  authority  upon  archaeological  matters  in 
Norfolk,  where  he  enjoys  a  wide  and  well  deserved 
popularity  as  a  county  gentleman,  keenly  interested  in 
everything  connected  with  the  county. 

It  was  in  the  'eighties  that  two  new  and  powerful  forces 
gradually  began  to  make  their  influence  felt  in  Mayfair. 
To  begin  with,  Americans,  of  whom  formerly  few  had  been 
seen,  flocked  to  London  in  considerable  numbers,  and 
Anglo-American  marriages  naturally  followed.  About 
this  time,  too,  the  Stock  Exchange  began  to  be  heard  of 
outside  the  City,  with  the  result  that  the  advance  guard 
of  that  vast  body  which  now  every  morning  makes  its  way 
to  various  offices,  adopted  a  City  career.  Up  to  that  time 
hardly  anyone  in  the  West  End  of  London  had  dabbled 
in  stocks  and  shares.  On  the  whole,  the  new  departure 


54        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

was  undoubtedly  costly  to  "  Society."  Some  young  men, 
it  is  true,  contrived  to  make  a  livelihood ;  but  more,  in 
consequence  of  unsuccessful  speculation,  were  compelled 
to  look  about  for  one.  Once  the  mania  for  speculation 
had  obtained  a  firm  grip  upon  what  was  practically  virgin 
soil,  its  victims  began  to  make  much  of  everyone  whom 
they  thought  capable  of  pointing  out  an  easy  path  to 
wealth.  A  number  of  shrewd  business  men,  who  hitherto 
had  never  dreamt  of  forcing  the  strongly-guarded  portals 
of  Society,  were  not  slow  in  taking  advantage  of  such  a 
state  of  affairs.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  they  obtained 
more  than  they  gave,  for  the  ample  hospitality  which  they 
dispensed  brought  in  a  rich  harvest  of  speculators  ready 
and  eager  with  childlike  confidence  blindly  to  rush  into 
any  and  every  venture.  With  the  advice  of  their  new- 
found advisers,  wealth  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice 
seemed  certain  of  attainment  to  many  a  sanguine  resident 
of  Mayfair.  Most  of  those,  however,  who  rejoiced  at  being 
put  in  "on  the  ground  floor  "  ended  by  never  getting  out 
of  the  basement,  the  only  thing  they  cleared  by  their 
speculations  being  their  own  pocket. 

That  section  of  the  aristocracy  who  first  threw  open 
their  hitherto  exclusive  portals  to  wealth,  unredeemed 
by  intellectual  worth  or  merit,  were  digging  their  order's 
grave. 

As  Mr  Arnold  Bennett  has  so  well  said,  they  and  their 
offspring  have  now  become  the  pawns  of  millionaires 
who  treat  them  with  a  mixture  containing  5  per  cent,  of 
flattery  and  95  per  cent,  of  breezy  disdain. 

With  the  advent  of  these  millionaires,  finance  became 
as  much  the  appanage  of  Society  as  politics  had  been  in 
the  past.  The  government  of  England,  once  entirely  in 
the  hands  of  the  leisured  classes,  has  now  passed  out  of 
their  control. 

The  old  school,  of  course,  had  not  hesitated  to  absorb 
wealth  from  the  commercial  classes  by  arranging 
marriages  with  their  daughters.  They  did  not,  how- 


THE  'EIGHTIES  55 

ever,  bow  down  before  rich  people  merely  because  they 
were  rich. 

On  the  contrary,  they  were  rather  inclined  to  circulate 
unkind  rumours  about  them,  even  when  such  men  were 
of  their  own  class. 

Sir  Thomas  Rumbold,  for  instance,  who  died  in  1812, 
Member  of  Parliament  for  Yarmouth,  Isle  of  Wight,  and 
had  been  Governor  of  Madras,  was  supposed  to  have 
started  his  career  as  a  waiter  at  White's. 

The  legend  in  question  evidently  inspired  Disraeli 
when  in  "  Sibyl "  he  described  how  a  valet  taken  out  to 
India  from  a  club  returned  to  England  a  rich  man,  and 
after  entering  Parliament  died  a  peer. 

Nevertheless  the  story  was  untrue,  and  as  it  is  con- 
stantly being  repeated  in  books  dealing  with  eighteenth- 
century  social  life  the  real  facts  as  here  given  (with  the 
approval  of  the  family)  may  be  worth  attention. 

Sir  Thomas  Rumbold,  on  whose  name  such  obloquy 
has  been  cast,  was  born  at  Leytonstone,  June  I5th,  1736. 
His  father  dying  at  Tellicherry  in  1745,  he  was  left  to 
the  care  of  his  mother  and  of  his  spinster  aunt,  Elizabeth, 
who  seems  to  have  been  the  good  genius  of  the  whole 
family,  and  in  memory  of  whom  he  afterwards  erected 
a  tablet  in  the  church  at  Walton,  where  he  himself  lies 
buried.  Dorothy  Rumbold  was  probably  in  somewhat 
straitened  circumstances  after  her  husband's  death,  but 
there  is  nothing  to  warrant  the  belief  that  her  poverty 
was  such  as  to  reduce  her  to  seek  for  her  boy  the  menial 
employment  traditionally  attributed  to  trim  at  White's 
Club.  She  brought  him  up  with  the  view  to  his  entering 
the  same  service  in  which  his  father  and  uncles  had  held 
responsible  positions,  and  in  which  his  elder  brother  was 
already  bidding  fair  to  achieve  distinction.  In  the 
petition  for  a  writership  addressed  to  the  Court  of  Directors 
by  Thomas  Rumbold  in  September  1751,  when  he  was 
just  turned  fifteen,  he  states  that  he  had  "  been  educated 
in  Writing  and  Accounts  and  humbly  hopes  himself 


56        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

qualified  to  serve  your  Honours  abroad."  The  petition 
is  accompanied  by  a  certificate  from  the  schoolmaster 
under  whom  he  had  studied.  On  his  appointment,  which 
bears  the  date  of  January  8th,  1752,  his  mother,  Dorothy 
Rumbold,  became  a  surety  for  him,  with  "  Henry  Crabb 
Boulton,  of  the  East  India  House,  gentleman,"  to  the 
extent  of  £500.  In  further  proof  that  funds  were  not 
entirely  wanting  in  the  family  at  that  period,  it  may  be 
mentioned  that  in  1757  Miss  Elizabeth  Rumbold,  the 
aunt,  became  security  for  Mr  H.  Southby — a  connection 
of  the  Rumbolds — as  "  free  merchant "  in  the  sum  of 
£2000. 

The  story  of  Sir  Thomas  having  been  a  servant  at 
White's  really  arose  in  this  way. 

The  following  squib  had  been  circulated  about  Sir 
Robert  Mackreth,  afterwards  M.P.  for  Castle  Rising,  who 
had  returned  from  India  with  a  large  fortune  : — 

When  Bob  MacGrath  ruled  Arthur's  crew 
He  said  to  Mackreth,  "  Black  my  shoe  " ; 

To  which  he  answered,  "  Ay,  Bob." 
But  when  returned  from  India's  land 
And  grown  too  proud  to  brook  command, 

He  sternly  answered,  "  Nay,  Bob." 

The  point  of  this  was  that  Mackreth  had  unquestion- 
ably been  a  waiter  at  White's,  then  managed  by  Arthur, 
whose  daughter  he  subsequently  married,  becoming  later 
on  the  founder  and  proprietor  of  Arthur's  Club.  As  both 
Rumbold  and  Mackreth  were  old  Indians,  the  name  of 
Rumbold  was  substituted  for  that  of  Mackreth  in  an 
election  squib  during  the  heated  contest  for  the  borough  of 
Shaftesbury  in  1775.  The  real  relations  between  Rumbold 
and  Mackreth  consisted  in  Sir  Thomas  employing  Mackreth 
as  his  agent  during  the  proceedings  instituted  against 
him  in  the  House  of  Commons.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that 
Mackreth,  who  was  born  of  humble  parentage  in  the 
village  of  Cark,  near  Cartmel,  began  life  as  a  domestic  in 


THE  'EIGHTIES  57 

the  service  of  a  gentleman  of  the  neighbourhood,  who 
kindly  sent  him  to  school  and  otherwise  helped  him  on. 
Into  the  family  of  Mackreth's  patron,  Dorothy,  the  only 
sister  of  Sir  Thomas  Rumbold,  subsequently  married.  In 
all  respects,  therefore,  the  connection  between  Mackreth 
and  Sir  Thomas  must  have  been  of  an  exactly  opposite 
character  to  that  described  in  the  squib.  The  mis- 
chievous jingling  rhyme  remains  as  a  curiosity,  as 
having  helped  to  enrich  the  language  by  a  new  and 
striking  word. 

Surely,  too,  if  the  anecdotes  retailed  about  Sir  Thomas 
had  really  found  credence  with  his  contemporaries,  how 
is  it  to  be  explained  that  in  1781,  at  the  hour  of  his  direst 
persecution,  the  members  of  White's  should  have  admitted 
into  their  rigidly  exclusive  circle  his  son — that  is,  the  son 
of  a  man  known  to  have  been  engaged  there  in  the  lowest 
of  menial  offices,  and  accused  of  offences  of  the  most 
disgraceful  character  ? 

Besides  the  White's  story,  accusations  of  extortion  in 
India  were  made  against  Sir  Thomas  Rumbold.  With 
regard  to  these,  it  must  be  remembered  that  he  was 
a  valued  companion  of  Give  ;  indeed,  when  the  latter  in 
1766  superseded  most  of  his  Council,  Sir  Thomas  was 
exempted  from  their  fate  on  account  of  his  peculiar 
merits,  nor  would  he  have  been  destined  by  the  Company 
to  succeed  Warren  Hastings  as  Governor-General  when 
that  great  statesman,  but  unscrupulous  enemy,  fell  under 
their  displeasure. 

Sir  Thomas  Rumbold  was  one  of  the  small  band  of 
men  who  helped  to  lay  the  foundations  of  our  Eastern 
dominion,  and  deserves  to  go  down  to  posterity  in  another 
character  than  that  of  a  shoeblack  who,  rising  to  high 
office  and  power,  developed  into  the  most  mercenary  and 
flagitious  of  Indian  rulers. 

In  any  case  his  rapacity  was  nothing  as  compared  with 
that  of  certain  modern  men.  One  of  these,  as  the 
price  of  according  complete  support  to  the  Government, 


58        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

is  said  to  have  asked  for  a  peerage,  a  million,  and  member- 
ship of  the  Royal  Yacht  Squadron. 

The  first  two  he  was  told  were  easy  but  the  other 
impossible. 

Sir  Thomas,  of  course,  suffered  from  the  fierce  opposition 
which  in  old  days  confronted  anyone  whose  family  was 
not  hi  the  charmed  circle  of  what  might  have  been  termed 
the  "  governing  set." 

Though  time  gradually  modified  this  state  of  affairs 
something  of  it  survived  well  into  the  nineteenth  century. 

The  immense  obstacles  which  Disraeli  had  to  overcome 
during  his  early  Parliamentary  days  can  scarcely  be 
realized. 

Of  course  in  his  case, in  addition  to  the  prejudice  aroused 
by  his  racial  origin,  his  mode  of  dressing  and  somewhat 
peculiar  appearance  exposed  him  to  a  good  many  gibes 
in  private  life. 

"  I  can't  feel  I  have  wasted  this  week,"  said  Lord 
Derby  in  1851.  "  I  have  made  Dizzy  cut  his  hair." 

In  the  House  of  Commons  not  a  few  took  a  pleasure  in 
what  they  called  "  trying  to  put  a  Jew's  harp  out  of 
tune." 

Nevertheless  in  this  instance  the  musical  instrument 
in  question  eventually  played  many  triumphal  marches. 

Among  the  many  sneers  and  sarcasms  levelled  at 
"  Dizzy  "  he  was  never  taunted  with  being  a  foreigner , 
and  indeed  he  was  not  one,  for  his  family  had  been  settled 
in  England  for  a  very  long  space  of  time. 

To  be  branded  as  a  foreigner  in  those  days  was  the  most 
damning  of  accusations. 

Lord  Palmerston,  with  his  intense  John  Bullism,  was 
naturally  not  liked  abroad.  "  For  the  very  reason  that 
you  hate  him,  we  like  him,"  said  one  of  the  old  school  to 
a  foreign  critic.  "  He  is  exactly  what  a  Foreign  Secretary 
oight  to  be,  popular  at  home  and  unpopular  abroad. 
Eh,  sir !  catch  that  man  standing  up  to  advocate  the 
cause  of  a  continental  despot,  or  conduct  himself  in  a 


THE  EIGHTIES  59 

manner  which  would  justify  his  enemies  in  calling  him 
the  Minister  of  such  and  such  a  king  or  emperor  at  the  Court 
of  St  James's  ?  Why,  sir,  what's  a  chief  of  the  Foreign 
Office  good  for,  if  he  doesn't  do  the  bull-dog's  duty — 
barking  and  showing  his  teeth,  to  frighten  the  house- 
breakers and  such-like  wretches  !  "  And  certainly  Lord 
Palmerston  was  a  capital  bull-dog  ready  to  bark  with  a 
voice  loud  enough  to  frighten  the  whole  neighbourhood. 
However,  no  one  was  bitten  by  him — he  had  merely  to 
show  his  teeth,  and  the  other  Powers,  knowing  what 
that  meant,  came  to  reason. 

The  people  at  large  then  believed  in  the  roast  beef 
of  Old  England,  and  called  French  dishes  kickshaws  ; 
they  hated  all  foreigners,  imagining  their  entire  food  to 
be  composed  of  frogs,  oil  and  garlic,  and  their  entire 
occupation  to  consist  in  dancing  and  playing  the  fiddle. 

During  the  Franco-German  war  of  1870,  although 
English  opinion  was  pretty  evenly  divided  in  favour 
of  the  two  combatant  nations,  the  French  were  regarded 
as  being  dissipated  and  the  Germans,  owing  to  the  old 
Emperor's  frequent  invocations  of  the  Almighty,  as 
hypocritical. 

The  general  opinion  was  that  the  Germans  were  a  poor 
but  hard-working  people,  worn  down  by  over-regulation. 
The  French,  clever  but  frivolous  and  wicked  ;  the  men 
spending  much  of  their  time  lolling  in  victorias. 

The  Italians,  though  pleasant  enough,  were  a  soft  race 
who  were  hopeless  out  of  their  own  sunny  climate. 

No  foreign  nation  could  of  course  compare  with  England, 
where  the  men  were  sportsmen,  did  not  swaddle  themselves 
up  in  cold  weather,  or  waste  their  time  sitting  in  cafes. 

While  the  England  of  the  past  prided  itself  upon  its 
John  Bullism,  sensible  folk  were  quite  ready  to  admit 
that  a  number  of  foreign  immigrants  had  increased  the 
country's  wealth  and  prosperity. 

Not  a  word,  for  instance,  was  ever  said  against  the 
Rothschilds.  Their  whole  fortune,  it  was  recognised, 


60        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

arose  from  the  extraordinary  integrity  which  has  always 
marked  all  their  dealings,  while  their  kindness  and  profuse 
generosity  was  notorious. 

In  an  earner  day  England  had  welcomed  the  French 
Huguenots,  whose  history,  now  seemingly  half  forgotten, 
contains  so  much  thrilling  romance. 

How  many  to-day  have  ever  heard  of  Jean  Cavalier, 
the  Camisard  leader  of  the  Cevennes,  who  defied  Louis 
Quatorze  and  died  a  Major-General  in  the  English 
service  ? 

Not  very  long  ago,  it  may  be  added,  the  "  Societe  de 
1'histoire  du  protestantisme  Fran£ais  "  restored  the  house 
of  "  Laporte,"  otherwise  "  Roland,"  the  General-in-Chief 
of  the  Camisards,  which  has  been  converted  into  a 
Huguenot  Museum. 

Here,  among  other  relics,  is  preserved  the  sword  of 
Cavalier. 

The  Musee  de  Desert,  as  this  interesting  relic  of  the 
indomitable  spirit  of  the  Camisards  is  called,  abounds 
in  souvenirs  and  documents  of  historical  interest.  Un- 
fortunately the  village  of  Mas  Soubeyran,  near  d'Anduze, 
is  not  of  very  easy  access,  the  journey,  which  necessitates 
several  changes,  lying  by  way  of  Avignon  and  Nimes. 
The  tourist  who  ventures  upon  it  will,  however,  be  well 
repaid  by  the  magnificent  views  to  be  obtained  while 
travelling  in  the  Cevennes. 

An  American  pastor  representing  25,000  Protestant 
American  churches  visited  the  Muse"e  on  their  behalf 
in  1918,  and  in  the  course  of  an  admirable  speech  said  : — 

"  Here  one  comes  in  direct  contact  with  the  soul  of 
France,  with  the  spirit  of  the  race. 

"  At  the  front  I  heard  the  cry  of  Verdun,  '  Us  ne 
passeront  pas  ! '  It  is  the  same  word,  born  of  the  same 
spirit ;  one  is  but  a  legacy  of  the  other." 

Modern  immigrants  into  England,  alas,  are  for  the  most 
part  of  a  totally  different  kind  from  those  who  sought 
these  shores  in  the  past. 


THE  'EIGHTIES  61 

The  majority  are  either  persons  of  great  wealth,  who 
rightly  imagine  that  they  will  obtain  a  higher  social 
position  here  than  that  accorded  them  in  the  land  of 
their  birth,  or  persons  of  no  property  at  all,  anxious  to 
obtain  some  at  the  expense  of  the  kindly  and  gullible 
Briton. 

Both  classes  realize  that  the  modern  Englishman,  unlike 
his  forbears,  has  an  extraordinary  tenderness  towards 
foreigners. 

This  tenderness,  it  may  be  added,  he  is  ever  ready  to 
deny. 

A  Parisian  newspaper  at  the  time  of  the  coal  strike, 
after  paying  a  tribute  to  the  services  rendered  by  England 
to  France,  could  not  help  deploring  that  her  faithful 
ally  was  so  prone  to  be  swayed  by  foreign  extremists. 

"It  is  uncomfortable  for  us,"  continued  the  writer, 
"  to  have  as  a  close  neighbour  a  country  the  proletariat 
of  which,  like  the  Italian  peasantry,  is  feather-brained 
and  excitable,  while  easily  influenced  by  any  specious 
alien  agitator." 

Whatever  may  be  said  about  the  first  part  of  this 
statement,  the  second  is  without  question  true.  The 
modern  English,  while  fond  of  boasting  of  not  yielding 
to  foreign  influences,  are  easily  led  by  persons  of  alien 
nationality. 

A  striking  feature  of  modern  politics  is  the  readiness 
with  which  those  responsible  for  the  selection  of  candi- 
dates put  forward  wealthy  people  of  foreign  origin  as 
Parliamentary  representatives  of  the  British  people. 

Party  funds  are  easily  replenished  from  the  coffers  of 
wealthy  aliens,  provided  their  social  and  political  aspira- 
tions be  gratified,  consequently  wire-pullers  are  always 
ready  to  try  and  find  them  a  seat. 

If  one  constituency  objects  another  is  not  very  difficult 
to  find,  things  in  this  respect  being  rather  worse  than  in 
the  'fifties  of  the  last  century,  when  Lord  Ranelagh  went 
down  to  the  Carlton  and  said  : 


62        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

"  Sir  Henry  Meux  is  mad,  and  won't  do  for  Hertford- 
shire ;  we  must  get  him  in  for  Middlesex." 

Any  churlish  millionaire  who  may  desert  his  native 
country  in  a  mood  of  personal  pique  has  a  good  chance 
of  becoming  a  member  of  the  House  of  Commons.  In 
any  case,  if  he  should  wish  it,  he  is  certain  to  become  a 
member  of  the  House  of  Lords. 

The  German  Jew  and  spy  Trepitch  Lincoln,  though 
scarcely  able  to  speak  English,  owing  to  wealthy  Non- 
conformist support,  was  triumphantly  elected  by  the 
hard-headed  men  of  Darlington ;  Sir  Edgar  Spyer,  a 
German,  was  made  a  Privy  Councillor ;  and  the  late 
Lord  Astor,  an  American,  a  Peer. 

The  first  woman  elected  by  an  English  constituency 
was  the  latter's  daughter-in-law,  who  publicly  deplored 
her  husband  being  shackled  by  the  disabilities  attaching 
to  the  Peerage,  which  Peerage,  she  might  have  added, 
had  been  bestowed  mainly  because  the  Government 
was  anxious  to  mark  its  appreciation  of  enormous 
wealth  ! 

This  vivacious  lady,  the  first  Englishwoman  to  sit  in 
Parliament,  is  herself  American-born.  As,  however,  her 
husband  is  very  rich,  the  electorate  of  Plymouth  would 
have  probably  sent  her  to  Westminster  had  she  been  a 
Hottentot. 

It  might  have  been  imagined  that  the  war  would  have 
rather  impaired  the  popularity  of  German  Jews,  but 
this  seems  scarcely  to  be  the  case  ;  witness  the  tender- 
ness of  the  Press  towards  the  camouflaged  and 
murderous  Hebrews  who  have  contrived  to  get  hold 
of  Russia. 

Practically  all  the  Bolshevist  leaders  except  Lenin  are 
men  of  foreign  origin  who,  like  Trotsky — real  name 
Braunstein — or  Kamenefi  (Rosenfeld)  have  tried  to  hide 
their  origin  by  assuming  a  Russian  name. 

An  amusing  feature  of  Mrs  Sheridan's  account  of  her 
visit  to  Russia  under  Bolshevist  protection  was  her 


THE  'EIGHTIES  63 

mention  of  the  Russian  folk  songs  sung  by  these 
gentry. 

As  she  admits  she  did  not  know  the  language,  it  was 
probably  Yiddish  in  which  the  comrades  sang  ! 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  the  modern  English 
are  so  intellectually  indolent  that  they  seldom  trouble 
to  enquire  into  the  origin  of  any  designing  person  who 
starts  some  new  social  or  political  fad,  and  even  when 
he  or  she  has  been  proved  to  have  ulterior  motives  their 
confidence  remains  unshaken. 

Putting  on  that  peculiar  expression  which  masks  a 
dislike  for  mental  effort,  the  defenders  of  such  adventurers 
speak  of  the  value  of  those  who  try  to  do  good  in  the 
world  and  the  ingratitude  of  critics  who  question  social 
reformers'  motives. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  admitted  that  foreigners 
who  succeed  in  imposing  themselves  upon  the  English 
people,  unlike  the  latter,  know  how  to  use  their 
brains. 

"  What  a  pity,"  said  a  Frenchman,  "  that  the  English 
use  the  excellent  wits  with  which  Providence  has  endowed 
them  so  little  !  " 

Modern  so-called  sport  is  probably  in  some  degree 
responsible  for  this.  Sport,  which  a  cynical  foreigner 
once  described  as  something  which  is  either  dangerous 
or  fatiguing,  while  always  useless,  is  all  very  well  within 
proper  limits;  but  a  nation  which  elevates  it  into  an  ideal 
must  of  necessity  suffer  in  its  mental  development  and 
eventually  be  outclassed  by  those  who  cultivate  brain 
as  well  as  muscle. 

Looking  on  at  football,  the  sport  of  the  poor,  and 
playing  golf,  that  of  the  well-to-do,  are  both  calculated 
to  suppress  thought ;  in  any  case,  neither  can  be  said 
to  stimulate  imagination. 

In  addition  to  this,  the  youth  of  the  country  has 
developed  an  intense  mania  for  dancing — another  mental 
anodyne  ! 


64        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

"  No,"  said  a  young  fellow  to  the  writer,  "  I  never 
read  now ;  I  haven't  time.  You  see,  when  I  get  an 
afternoon  off  I  play  golf,  and  in  the  evenings  one  wants 
to  dance." 

What  is  the  use  of  spending  millions  on  education  ? 


IV 
SOCIAL  CHANGES 

WITH  the  growing  power  of  Democracy  the 
external  glories  of  the  West  End  have 
faded  almost  away.  The  immaculately 
dressed  men-about-town  who  once  haunted  its  thorough- 
fares have  gradually  disappeared,  and  well-turned-out 
horsemen  and  smart  carriages  vanished  from  the  Parks. 

Masculine  dress  is  now  pretty  much  the  same  for 
millionaire  or  for  shopman,  while  diversity  in  male 
attire  is  practically  not  seen  at  all. 

Existence  has  certainly  not  gained  anything  by  this 
sartorial  assimilation  of  all  classes  ;  on  the  contrary,  the 
appearance  of  the  streets  and  parks  is  less  gay  and  less 
amusing. 

The  same  criticism,  I  think,  applies  to  London  life  in 
general,  the  regulation  of  everything  and  everybody 
being  liable  to  stamp  out  originality  and  imagination. 

A  striking  instance  of  this  was  the  technical  title  of 
"  Franco-British  Exhibition  of  Textiles  "  chosen  for  the 
most  important  collection  of  tapestries,  carpets,  silks  and 
embroideries  ever  shown  in  England,  which  was  opened 
in  February  1921  at  the  Victoria  and  Albert  Museum. 

It  is  a  wonder  they  did  not  describe  the  glorious  treasures 
of  Rheims  and  Versailles  as  the  Franco-British  stock  of 
dry  goods  and  furnishing  fabrics  ! 

Apparently  the  main  object  of  modern  so-called 
civilization  is  to  assimilate  everyone  to  workers  in  a 
factory — their  life  strictly  regulated  by  rule,  their  garb  all 
cut  on  a  similar  pattern,  while  everything  original  or 
unconventional  is  sternly  repressed. 

5  65 


66         MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Up  to  about  seventy  years  ago  there  were  quite  a 
number  of  sartorial  survivals  which  have  now  disappeared. 
The  laced  gowns  of  noblemen  and  fellow-commoners, 
together  with  the  gold  and  silver  tufts  on  their  caps,  were 
artistic  relics  of  mediaeval  times. 

All  this  was  swept  away  out  of  deference  to  the  levelling 
spirit  which,  supposed  to  promote  progress,  has  since 
done  little  beyond  increase  ugliness  and  promote  dis- 
content. 

The  mortar-board,  still  worn,  is  of  considerable  anti- 
quity, being,  like  the  Lancer  cap,  merely  an  adaptation 
of  the  Polish  national  headdress  worn  at  the  oldest 
University  in  Europe — that  of  Cracow. 

A  hidden  force  in  the  modern  world  seems  to  tend 
towards  the  annihilation  of  the  picturesque.  The  deadly 
monotony  of  costume  which  prevails  in  our  great  towns 
threatens  to  pervade  the  world  ;  the  malevolent  spirit 
whose  aim  is  drab  uniformity  seems  indeed  tireless  in  his 
evil  activities. 

Before  the  Great  War,  gay  military  uniforms  did  some- 
thing to  enliven  European  capitals  ;  the  bright  splash  of 
colour  of  our  English  red  in  particular  struck  a  pleasant 
note  in  the  streets.  Now,  if  certain  short-sighted  critics 
have  their  way,  our  soldiers  are  to  remain  clothed  in 
khaki,  the  saddest  and  least  artistic  dress  man  ever 
devised. 

The  campaign  waged  against  the  re-introduction  of 
picturesque  and  historic  military  uniforms  is  but  another 
symptom  of  the  unimaginative  tendencies  of  the  present 
age. 

It  might  have  been  thought  that  respect  for  the  glorious 
memories  of  Blenheim,  Waterloo  and  Inkerman  would 
have  prevented  the  Press  from  sneering  at  the  scarlet 
coats  in  which  so  many  heroes  of  the  past  fought  and  fell. 

There  are  persons  who  actually  imagine  that  dull 
uniformity  of  dress  is  a  sign  of  progress.  Speaking  of 
the  delegates  at  the  London  Conference,  one  paper  said  : 


SOCIAL  CHANGES  67 

"  Savile  Row  has  set  the  fashion  for  men's  dress  all 
over  the  world,  and  looking  from  behind  at  the  arrivals 
to-day,  one  could  not  have  told  one  delegate  from  another. 

"  Whether  they  came  from  Tokio  or  Constantinople, 
Rome  or  Angora,  Brussels  or  Downing  Street,  it  was 
always  the  same  well-cut  morning  dress,  the  same  silk 
hats." 

The  growth  of  civilization  as  indicated  by  the  oblitera- 
tion of  every  picturesque  national  dress  is  indeed 
marvellous  ! 

Formerly  the  West  End  of  London  was  remarkable  for 
the  number  of  well-dressed  people  to  be  seen  there  ;  now 
there  is  not  much  difference  from  any  other  part  of  the 
town. 

This  is  not  by  any  means  the  only  change ;  all  quarters 
of  London  are  being  assimilated  to  one  another. 

In  old  days  London  streets  were  divided  into  two 
classes — those  where  the  roast-beef  of  life  was  earned, 
and  those  where  the  said  roast -beef  was  eaten.  No  other 
town  presented  so  strong  a  contrast  between  its  various 
quarters.  But  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  leading 
thoroughfares,  where  hunger  or  ambition  hunted  men  on, 
extended  for  many  miles  the  quiet  quarters  of  comfortable 
merchants,  of  wealthy  citizens,  and  of  landed  proprietors, 
who  came  to  town  for  "  the  season,"  and  who  returned 
to  their  parks  and  shooting-grounds  as  soon  as  her  Majesty 
had  been  graciously  pleased  to  prorogue  Parliament,  and 
with  Parliament  the  season. 

"  The  season  is  over  !  everybody  is  gone  out  of  town," 
wrote  the  correspondents  of  provincial  and  continental 
newspapers.  "  Everybody  " — that  is  to  say,  everybody 
with  the  exception  of  two  millions  of  men,  who  made 
rather  a  considerable  noise  in  the  northern,  southern, 
and  eastern  parts  of  London.  But  of  course  they  were 
"  nobodies  "  ;  they  were  merely  merchants,  tradesmen, 
manufacturers,  clerks,  agents,  public  functionaries,  judges, 
physicians,  barristers,  teachers,  journalists,  publishers, 


68        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

printers,  musicians,  actors,  clergymen,  labourers,  beggars, 
thieves,  foreigners,  and  other  members  of  the  general 
public.  Everybody  else  left  the  metropolis  immediately 
after  the  Parliament  was  prorogued  by  the  Queen.  The 
West  End  became  a  city  of  the  dead.  The  deserted 
streets  and  the  shuttered  windows  proclaimed  that  all 
who  were  not  exactly  nobodies  had  gone  to  their  country 
places  or  abroad. 

The  habit  of  leaving  the  country  just  as  it  was  about 
to  be  at  its  best  also  provoked  criticism. 

Writing  to  my  mother,  at  the  end  of  March  1856, 
Cobden  said : 

"  I  return  to  town  again  on  Monday  week.  It  is  really 
very  unnatural  to  turn  my  back  on  the  country  at  the 
moment  when  Nature  is  beginning  to  put  forth  all  her 
attractions. 

"  Could  you  justify  before  a  tribunal  the  desertion  of 
Dangstein  for  Grosvenor  Street  in  the  month  of  May  ? 
Were  you  put  on  your  trial  for  the  offence  and  the  judges 
were  allowed  a  view  of  your  grounds  and  conservatories, 
I  should  despair  of  a  verdict  in  your  favour." 

Cobden,  of  course,  had  a  particular  affection  for  the 
country.  Had  he  not  bought  back  the  land  once  owned 
by  his  father  and  built  Dunford  House  on  it  ? 

Here,  except  for  visits  to  London  necessitated  by  his 
Parliamentary  duties,  he  lived  for  the  most  part  till  he 
was  laid  to  rest  by  his  son  in  West  Lavington  churchyard, 
on  which  occasion  his  friend  Thorold  Rogers,  then  in 
orders,  preached  the  memorial  sermon.  In  the  same 
church  Manning  preached  for  the  last  time  as  an  Anglican 
clergyman. 

1  %  The  Victorians,  though  they  spent  a  good  deal  of 
time  in  the  country,  did  not,  as  a  rule,  take  much  interest 
in  the  huge  gardens  which  were  so  often  attached  to 
their  country  houses.  They  regarded  the  presence  of  a 
number  of  gardeners  as  a  matter  of  course.  In  addition 
to  this  it  was  the  practice  to  keep  a  number  of  old  people 


SOCIAL  CHANGES  69 

past  work  who  were  engaged  in  various  easy  occupations, 
such  as  sweeping  up  leaves.  This  was  a  kindly  way  of 
pensioning  old  people,  who  in  many  instances  lived  to 
a  very  great  age. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  a  number  of  instances  these 
huge  gardens  did  not  repay  their  owners  for  the  money 
expended  upon  them. 

The  head  gardener  was  often  a  tyrant  who  resented 
even  a  flower  being  picked  without  his  sanction. 

Greenhouses  were  kept  locked  up  and  beautiful  fruit 
would  be  allowed  to  go  to  waste,  while  the  household 
had  to  be  content  with  anything  the  gardener  chose  to 
send  in. 

As  he  usually  liked  to  keep  the  finest  specimens  in 
order  to  make  a  show  when  people  went  round  the 
houses,  the  finest  fruit  and  flowers  never  went  indoors. 

There  were  cases  indeed  where  people  with  costly 
gardens  and  greenhouses  procured  flowers  and  fruit  for 
their  household  from  London,  an  arrangement  which  it 
is  possible  may  have  resulted  in  their  purchasing  their 
own  produce  sold  to  tradesmen  by  an  unscrupulous 
gardener — for  the  Victorians,  though  fond  of  indulging 
in  curious  little  economies,  such  as  not  having  napkins 
at  lunch,  were  often  careless  about  larger  expenses.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  few  of  the  rich  of  that  day  had  any  real 
business  instincts. 

A  large  section  of  the  middle  classes  led  hard,  dour 
lives  during  this  epoch,  ignoring  the  light,  the  loving,  and 
the  joy  of  existence.  They  had  no  idea  of  getting  the 
most  out  of  life,  though  apt  enough  at  getting  the  most 
they  could  out  of  other  people. 

The  majority  believed  themselves  to  be  religious — 
that  is  to  say,  they  scrupulously  attended  places  of 
worship,  and  brought  up  their  children  to  think  of  God 
as  a  harsh  old  gentleman  on  the  watch  to  punish  every- 
body, especially  people  who  desecrated  the  Sabbath  or 
who  were  lax  about  prayers. 


70        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Quite  a  number  of  people  then  looked  upon  actors 
as  a  different  race  of  beings,  and  whenever  by  chance 
they  saw  any  theatrical  persons  in  the  street,  would 
watch  their  movements  closely,  being  disappointed  at 
not  perceiving  any  eccentricity  in  their  walk  qr  manner. 
They  seemed  to  expect  that  after  a  few  steps  the  actor 
would  invert  himself  and  proceed  for  the  rest  of  his 
journey  on  his  hands,  or  that  upon  calling  a  cab  he 
would  spring  in  head  foremost  through  the  window  and 
be  seen  no  more. 

Many  of  the  wives  of  suburban  tradesmen  in  those 
days  were  Evangelical,  carried  tracts  in  their  pockets, 
and  would  sooner  have  died  than  go  to  the  theatre. 

Their  main  interests  outside  their  own  households 
were  the  high  price  of  butchers'  bills,  Lord  Shaftesbury, 
misssionaries,  and  muffins. 

Push  in  business  was  not  carried  then  to  the  lengths  it 
is  to-day,  but  in  the  'sixties  a  more  than  usually  enter- 
prising firm  of  undertakers  sent  out  a  circular  to  lawyers 
and  doctors  which  created  some  sensation. 

It  ran  as  follows  : — 

"Established  a  Century. — Agents  to  the  Cemeteries. 
"  SIR, — At  the  close  of  another  year  it  again  becomes 
our  pleasing  duty  to  tender  our  sincere  thanks  to  the 
members  of  the  Legal  and  Medical  Professions  for  the 
favour  of  their  kind  interest  in  recommendation. 

"It  is  always  our  care  to  sustain  the  high  reputation 
our  house  has  so  long  enjoyed  ;  and  we  confidently  look 
forward  to  the  same  measure  of  your  support  in  the  future 
which  we  have  enjoyed  in  the  past. 

"  Believe  us,  your  faithful  servants, 

" &  SONS, 

"  Undertakers." 

On  a  separate  sheet  was  printed  : — 

"  We  have  pleasure  in  stating  that  we  have  increased 


SOCIAL  CHANGES  71 

our  rate  of  allowance  upon  all  introductions  to  ten  per 
cent." 

A  number  of  tradesmen,  if  very  regular  about  praying 
on  their  knees  most  of  Sunday,  were  just  as  regular  in 
preying  upon  their  customers  all  the  rest  of  the  week. 

According  to  their  curious  code  there  was  no  harm 
in  getting  the  better  of  anyone  in  business,  provided 
one  did  not  indulge  in  frivolity  or  amusements  tending 
towards  vice. 

During  the  late  Victorian  and  early  Edwardian  period 
the  outlook  of  the  London  middle  classes  became  sensibly 
modified  in  several  ways. 

In  addition  to  the  many  who  became  regular  theatre- 
goers, quite  a  number  took  to  frequenting  West  End 
restaurants,  especially  for  supper,  to  which  up  to  1914 
they  flocked  in  yearly  increasing  numbers. 

The  war,  however,  which  from  a  social  point  of  view 
has  taken  so  much  and  given  us  so  little,  has  of  course 
checked  all  this. 

Though  a  number  of  people  in  the  West  End  have 
always  lived  comfortable  lives,  luxury  never  probably 
reached  such  a  pitch  as  just  before  the  Great  War. 

Money,  in  spite  of  complaints  of  heavy  taxation,  was 
fairly  plentiful,  and  luxurious  entertaining  was  the  order 
of  the  day.  A  great  many  had  excellent  chefs,  and 
champagne,  which  in  Mid- Victorian  days  was  only  given 
on  great  occasions,  flowed  like  water.  The  dancing 
craze  was  already  in  full  swing,  and  an  almost  fierce  love 
of  amusement  seemed  to  have  seized  all  classes.  "  Eat, 
drink  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we  die,"  might 
well  have  been  an  appropriate  motto  in  those  days. 
Many  of  those  indeed  who  laughed,  revelled  and  danced 
were  to  fall,  and  after  all  it  was  well  that  they  should 
have  their  fill  of  amusement  before  they  sank  to  sleep. 

In  1914  a  veritable  carnival  of  extravagance  raged 
in  the  West  End,  where  many  tried  to  live  like  his  or  her 


72        MAYFA1R  AND  MONTMARTRE 

richer  neighbours,  irrespective  of  differences  in  rank, 
means  and  social  position.  In  old  days,  moderately 
well-off  people  made  no  effort  whatever  to  entertain 
beyond  occasionally  asking  some  relative  or  friend  to 
share  their  simple  dinner.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
twentieth  century  the  same  class  of  people  often  pre- 
tended to  keep  a  chef,  gave  dinner-parties  of  an  ambitious 
kind,  and  in  other  directions  copied  the  luxurious  ways 
of  more  opulent  friends. 

At  no  period,  in  all  probability,  was  the  quest  of 
pleasure  so  ardent.  Luxury  in  the  West  End  had 
reached  an  almost  excessive  point,  and  pleasure  resorts 
were  full  of  well-dressed  people  bent  upon  enjoyment. 

Owing  to  frequenting  the  great  restaurants  which  had 
sprung  up  since  Mr  Ritz  had  shown  what  could  be  done 
at  the  Savoy,  people  who  had  before  been  satisfied  with 
plain  fare  wanted  what  was  or  claimed  to  be  French 
cookery. 

And  yet  old  English  fare  as  indulged  in  by  their  forbears 
was  good  enough  for  anybody. 

There  is  indeed  nothing  better,  as  Lord  Dudley  used 
to  say,  than  a  small  turbot,  some  well-roasted  lamb  or 
duckling  with  green  peas,  followed  by  a  good  apple  or 
apricot  tart.  These,  when  well  cooked,  make  a  dinner 
fit  for  an  emperor. 

Also  the  folk  who  had  formerly  been  well  content  to 
dine  at  seven  took  to  copying  the  West  End  and  went  in 
for  late  dinner. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  dinner-hour  has  been  getting 
later  during  the  last  two  hundred  years  among  all  classes 
of  the  well-to-do. 

Early  in  the  eighteenth  century  people  dined  at  two 
o'clock,  but  gradually  dinner  was  put  off  and  put  off  till 
four  or  five  became  the  popular  hour,  which  in  course  of 
time  was  further  delayed  till  seven  among  the  commercial 
classes  and  eight  or  even  eight-thirty  in  the  fashionable 
world. 


SOCIAL  CHANGES  73 

In  the  'sixties  and  'seventies  people  gave  dull,  solemn, 
private  dinner  parties  during  the  season,  with  massive 
plate  and  expensive  viands  and  priceless  wine  and  rather 
heavy  conversation. 

At  such  dinners,  as  Thackeray  said,  the  host  and 
hostess  too  frequently  became  mere  creatures  in  the  hands 
of  the  sham  butlers,  sham  footmen,  and  tall  confectioners' 
emissaries  who  crowded  the  room.  They  were  but  guests 
at  their  own  table,  were  helped  last,  content  to  occupy 
the  top  and  bottom  in  solemn  state. 

Bridge,  and  the  fashion  set  by  the  late  King  of  getting 
through  a  meal  as  quickly  as  possible,  have  pretty  well 
destroyed  those  lengthy  dinners  in  which  the  Victorians 
delighted. 

Sitting  over  wine  after  dinner  has  also  become  a  thing 
of  the  past,  banished  by  the  tolerance  now  accorded  to 
cigar  and  cigarette. 

That  prince  of  gourmets,  Brillat  Savarin,  said :  "  Let 
the  eating  proceed  slowly,  the  dinner  being  the  last 
business  of  the  day,  and  let  the  guests  look  upon  them- 
selves as  travellers  who  journey  together  towards  a 
common  object." 

Whether  the  modern  habit  of  rushing  through  a  meal 
makes  for  health  is  very  questionable ;  anyhow  it  exists 
to  such  an  extent  that  a  certain  wealthy  magnate  of  the 
railway  world  was  said  to  recruit  his  footmen  from  among 
the  swiftest  young  porters  whom  he  observed  hustling 
about  his  company's  platforms. 

Thackeray  advocated  more  hospitality  and  less  show. 
"  Everybody,"  said  he,  "  has  the  same  (inner  in  London, 
and  the  same  soup,  and  the  same  saddle  of  mutton,  boiled 
fowls  and  tongue,  entrees,  champagne,  and  so  forth. 
Who  does  not  know  those  made  dishes  with  the  universal 
sauce  to  each  :  fricandeau,  sweetbreads,  damp,  dumpy 
cutlets,  etc.,  seasoned  with  the  compound  of  grease, 
onions,  bad  port  wine,  cayenne  pepper,  and  curry-powder  ; 
the  poor  wiry  Moselle  and  sparkling  Burgundy  in  the 


74         MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

ice-coolers,  and  the  old  story  of  white  and  brown  soup, 
turbot,  little  smelts,  boiled  turkey,  and  saddle  of  mutton  ? 
.  .  .  What  I  would  recommend  with  all  my  power  is 
that  dinners  should  be  more  simple,  more  frequent,  and 
should  contain  fewer  persons." 

While  the  dinner-parties  of  the  'seventies  and  'eighties 
were  for  the  most  part  less  luxurious,  if  more  formal, 
than  those  of  the  period  immediately  preceding  the 
outbreak  of  the  Great  War,  not  a  few  of  the  residents 
in  Mayfair  already  prided  themselves  upon  their  cooks. 

Occasionally  some  of  these  latter  were  so  extravagant 
as  to  evoke  protests. 

One  well-known  chef,  for  instance,  used  such  an 
enormous  amount  of  eggs  that  his  mistress,  while  telling 
him  to  be  more  moderate,  enquired  the  reason  why 
some  three  dozen  had  been  used  for  a  not  over-elaborate 
dish. 

He  admitted  that  the  number  might  seem  large,  adding : 
"  The  first  egg  was  all  right,  madame,  but  I  had  to  go 
through  a  couple  of  dozen  or  so  before  I  got  others  to 
match  its  colour  for  the  sauce." 

Some  of  the  old  school  of  gourmets  were  quite  amusing 
about  their  culinary  vicissitudes.  Such  a  one  was  the 
old  nobleman  who,  to  an  enquiry  as  to  what  sort  of 
a  cook  he  had  got  now,  replied :  "  One  with  a  great 
reverence  for  the  Old  Testament,  who  ought  to  be  at  a 
parson's." 

"Why?  " 

"  Because  she  glories  in  sending  up  either  a  '  burnt- 
offering  '  or  a  '  bloody  sacrifice.'  " 

The  old  school  hated  unpunctuality,  and  were  not  fond 
of  sending  a  second  invitation  to  people  who  were  not  in 
time  for  dinner. 

"  Better  late  than  never  "  was  not  a  maxim  which  made 
any  appeal  to  the  epicures  of  the  Victorian  age,  one  of 
whom  declared  that  it  ought  to  be  altered  into  "  Better 
never  than  late." 


SOCIAL  CHANGES  75 

Sitting  next  a  lady  at  dinner  who  had  kept  the 
whole  party  waiting,  John  Bright  said :  "  There  are  two 
unpardonable  sins — one  writing  an  illegible  hand  and 
the  other  being  late  for  dinner." 

The  craze  for  what  people  think  is  French  dishes — 
though  certain  hosts  have  always  been  noted  for  their 
chefs — has  produced  many  bad  dinners ;  however,  in 
Edwardian  days  it  developed  into  something  more  like 
the  real  thing,  and  before  the  Great  War  not  a  few  hosts 
were  justly  able  to  pride  themselves  upon  being  able  to 
give  their  guests  a  really  first-class  repast. 

Nevertheless  within  the  last  two  decades  there  do 
not  seem  to  have  been  any  great  chefs  like  Soyer  or 
Ude — that  great  cook,  who  on  the  death  of  his  old 
master  the  Duke  of  York,  so  feelingly  exclaimed : 
"  Ah !  mon  pauvre  Due,  how  you  will  miss  me  where 
you  have  gone  !  " 

Within  the  last  ten  years  or  so  the  American  habit  of 
serving  cocktails  before  dinner  has  made  its  way  into 
Mayfair. 

Whether  a  cocktail  does  not  take  away  more  appetite 
than  it  gives  is  a  doubtful  question.  An  authority, 
however,  maintains  that  a  dry  cocktail — one,  and  one 
only — taken  ten  minutes  before  the  moment  of  sitting 
down  at  table,  is  a  stimulus  to  appetite. 

The  curtailment  of  the  number  of  dishes  served  at 
dinners,  which  in  old  days  often  reached  a  preposterous 
number,  is  undoubtedly  an  improvement.  Some  of 
the  old  school,  it  is  probable,  literally  gorged  them- 
selves to  death,  a  thing  which  would  be  unlikely  to 
happen  to-day.  The  general  standard  of  entertaining 
has  undoubtedly  improved. 

Many  of  the  Victorian  lunch  and  dinner  givers  had  a 
way  of  making  their  guests  sit  very  close  together,  which 
it  was  said  promoted  sociability,  while  the  modern  mode 
of  having  dining-room  chairs  with  arms  was  unknown. 
Napkins  were  not  always  provided  at  luncheon,  though 


76        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

their  use  at  dinner  was  universal.  A  few  old  usages 
which  lingered  on  into  the  end  of  the  last  century  have 
disappeared.  Lemonade  or  barley  water  often  stood 
on  dining  tables,  and  in  old-fashioned  country  houses 
tea  was  served  just  before  the  hour  for  retiring  to  bed. 
This  latter  custom  has  been  obsolete  for  many  years. 
The  curious  thing  is  that  it  does  not  seem  to  have  pre- 
vented people  from  sleeping. 

Afternoon  tea  was  originally  taken  at  four  o'clock; 
the  hour,  however,  gradually  got  to  five  as  people  took  to 
dining  later. 

The  habit  of  taking  five  o'clock  tea,  which  is  now 
universal  in  clubs,  is  a  comparatively  new  one,  and 
dates  only  from  about  thirty  years  ago ;  though, 
of  course,  a  certain  amount  of  teas  were  served  long 
before  this.  It  is  doubtful  whether  tea  drinking  is 
entirely  beneficial  to  the  health,  but  it  is  certainly 
more  so  than  the  brandy  and  soda  drinking  which  it 
superseded. 

The  amount  of  B.  and  S.'s  consumed  in  the  'seventies 
and  early  'eighties  was  quite  prodigious  ;  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  doubtful  whether  liqueurs  were  drunk  in  such 
large  quantities  as  is  the  case  to-day. 

The  whole  question  of  whether  the  well-to-do  classes 
drink  more  or  less  than  in  the  past  is  obscure.  Ever 
since  he  was  a  child  the  writer  has  heard  people  talking 
of  the  greater  amount  of  alcohol  consumed  in  their  youth. 
At  the  present  time  there  are  constant  references  to 
the  deep  potations  indulged  in  by  the  men  of  -thirty  years 
ago — 1890.  But  thirty  years  ago  people  used  to  say 
that  no  one  drank  anything  compared  with  what  was 
drunk  thirty  years  before — 1860. 

Men,  however,  who  had  lived  at  that  date  declared 
that  the  drinking  then  was  nothing  to  what  there  had 
been  thirty  years  before — 1830,  and  so  the  old  story 
goes  on. 

The  real  truth,  I  believe,  is  that  many  individuals, 


SOCIAL  CHANGES  77 

after  leading  rather  rapid  bachelor  lives,  settle  down  and 
become  serious  members  of  society  with  a  tendency 
towards  looking  after  their  health.  Their  own  con- 
sumption of  alcohol  becomes  reduced  to  a  minimum, 
while  their  quiet  mode  of  life  prevents  their  coming  in 
contact  with  anyone  not  leading  a  carefully  ordered 
existence. 

In  consequence  of  this,  they  assume  that  everyone 
else  is  moderate  too,  quite  losing  sight  of  the  fact  that  a 
certain  number  of  people  continue  to  drink  a  good  deal. 

On  the  whole,  however,  I  believe  that  even  roystering 
youth  has  become  more  sensible  as  to  its  potations. 
The  restrictions,  however,  have  had  a  very  bad  effect  in 
causing  wild  young  fellows  to  drink  against  time  at  the 
closing  hour's  approach. 

Parisian  restaurant  keepers  say  the  English  who  come 
abroad  drink  far  more  than  before  the  war.  Doubtless 
this  is  because,  like  children  escaped  from  school,  these 
visitors  have  too  keen  an  appreciation  of  the  social 
liberty  which  France  affords. 

The  true  solution  of  the  whole  drinking  question  would 
appear  to  be  favouring  moderate  drinkers,  while  making 
things  as  uncomfortable  as  possible  for  drunkards.  Un- 
fortunately the  modern  English  do  exactly  the  opposite, 
and  make  the  innocent  suffer  for  the  guilty. 

A  novel  social  feature  is  the  craze  for  dancing, 
against  which  there  is  nothing  to  be  said,  being  as  it  is 
healthy  as  well  as  productive  of  enjoyment.  The  extra- 
ordinary thing  is  the  comparatively  large  number  of 
middle-aged,  and  even  quite  old,  people  who  take  part 
in  it. 

In  old  days  they  would  have  been  looked  upon  as  old 
fools,  but  to-day  no  one  minds. 

After  all,  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred  they 
are  more  danced  against  than  dancing,  gout  and  a  cheery 
past  not  being  conducive  to  such  an  active  form  of 
exercise. 


78        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

While  women  dress  better  than  in  the  past,  they  spend 
far  more  money.  Feminine  extravagance  in  dress  indeed 
has  become  quite  a  common  vice. 

Though  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  war  there  was 
some  idea  that  economy  ought  to  be  the  order  of  the  day, 
as  the  weary  struggle  dragged  on,  an  entirely  new  class, 
who  for  the  first  time  found  themselves  in  possession  of 
money,  plunged  into  a  regular  orgy  of  extravagance, 
purchasing  fur  coats,  silk  stockings,  and  patent  leather 
shoes  with  a  zest  equal  to  that  of  a  well-tipped  schoolboy 
turned  loose  in  a  sweet-shop. 

Without  doubt  the  Press,  which  now  draws  such  large 
sums  from  advertisements  of  drapers,  costumiers  and 
others  who  minister  to  feminine  vanity,  is  largely  re- 
sponsible for  the  unchecked  extravagance  of  the  modern 
female.  It  used  to  be  urged  that  with  the  granting  of 
the  vote  to  women,  the  latter,  becoming  serious,  would 
despise  the  vanities  which  had  hitherto  been  associated 
with  their  sex. 

It  seems  likely  that  the  majority  of  the  wromen  of 
England  had  no  desire  for  the  vote,  the  concession  of  which 
was  undoubtedly  brought  about  by  the  persistency  of 
the  comparatively  few  who  had  infused  so  much  vigour 
into  an  agitation  which  dated  from  Victorian  days.  At 
that  period,  however,  the  cry  of  Votes  for  Women  was 
the  subject  of  many  witticisms. 

An  allusion  by  Bernal  Osborne  to  the  "  rapidity  of 
conception  "  and  "  ease  of  delivery  "  manifested  by  a  lady 
speaker  once  caused  quite  a  sensation  at  a  Suffrage 
meeting. 

Well,  female  emancipation — including  the  right  to 
serve  on  juries,  which  the  great  mass  of  women  abominate 
— is  now  an  accomplished  fact,  but  woman,  far  from 
having  risen  above  spending  her  time  and  money  in 
tricking  herself  out  in  pretty  frivolities,  now  spends  far 
more  time  and  far  greater  sums  of  money  than  she  ever 
did  before,  not  only  upon  mere  clothes  to  cover  her  body 


SOCIAL  CHANGES  79 

but  upon  numberless  unnecessary  trifles  merely  connected 
with  an  inordinate  personal  vanity. 

Fortunes  are  made  by  many  who  batten  upon  feminine 
folly,  fashion  being  merely,  as  a  critic  has  well  said, 
"  the  shearing  of  women  the  world  over,  from  London  to 
Buenos  Ayres." 

It  has  become  a  regular  and  remunerative  fashion  to 
design  dresses,  the  main  object  apparently  being  to  com- 
bine a  minimum  of  artistically  draped  material  with  a 
maximum  of  expense.  Every  new  fashion,  moreover, 
must  be  entirely  different  from  the  one  it  succeeds, 
otherwise  clients  might  try  and  have  their  old  dresses 
adapted,  which  would,  of  course,  not  be  at  all  to  the 
dressmakers'  taste. 

The  whole  thing  is  unmitigated  folly;  nevertheless  it 
will  probably  never  cease. 

Prehistoric  fashion-plates,  it  is  said,  have  been  found 
scratched  upon  the  walls  of  caves,  and  in  spite  of  protests, 
dress  will  continue  to  absorb  feminine  time  and  money 
as  long  as  the  world  lasts. 

The  position  of  a  young  lady  of  high  birth  but  moderate 
means  has  probably  never  been  so  bad  as  it  is  to-day, 
when  everything  connected  with  dress  has  become  so 
outrageously  expensive. 

At  the  same  time  feminine  costume  is  infinitely  more 
hygienic  and  more  attractive  than  in  the  'seventies, 
'eighties,  and  even  'nineties  of  the  last  century. 

The  custom  of  compressing  the  waist,  with  a  view  to 
producing  a  wasp-like  effect,  besides  inartistic,  was 
extremely  unhealthy. 

From  every  point  of  view  it  should  be  a  matter  for 
congratulation  that  modern  woman  has  succeeded  in 
obtaining  freedom  in  this  respect. 

Unfortunately,  in  fashion  as  in  other  mundane  matters, 
the  swing  of  the  pendulum  is  so  irresistible  that  the 
danger  of  this  highly  unhygienic  fashion's  return  is  by 
no  means  a  slight  one. 


80        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Within  the  last  few  years  ladies  have  adopted  the 
admirable,  pretty,  and  healthful  low  neck.  A  short 
while  ago,  however,  there  was  an  attempt  (futile,  one  is 
glad  to  note)  to  revive  the  ugly  high  collars,  often 
stiffened  with  whalebone,  which  disfigure  when  they 
do  not  conceal  some  of  the  most  beautiful  lines  in  the 
female  form  divine. 

Fashion  is  an  unreasonable  goddess,  as  well  as  a 
capricious  one,  and  is  apt  to  grow  weary  of  even  her 
happiest  inspirations. 

Even  the  ugly  eccentricities  of  costume  which  prevailed 
during  the  last  century  failed  to  disfigure  many  of  the 
ladies  who  wore  it. 

The  Victorian  Era  indeed  may  be  said  to  have  been 
noted  for  the  beauty  of  its  women,  the  record  of  which 
has  been  preserved  for  us  by  Winterhalter  and  other 
artists. 

Among  the  beautiful  ladies  of  that  day  the  Princess 
of  Wales — now  Queen  Alexandra — was  by  universal 
consent  acclaimed  as  the  very  incarnation  of  youthful 
loveliness. 

Mrs  Thistlethwayte,  a  celebrated  beauty,  once  created 
a  sensation  at  the  Opera,  the  whole  house  rising  to  its 
feet  to  watch  her  leave  the  theatre. 

In  those  days  the  aristocracy  and  the  stage  were 
supposed  to  have  a  sort  of  monopoly  of  feminine 
beauty,  the  commercial  and  working  classes  not 
having  yet  learnt  how  to  make  the  most  of  their 
appearance. 

In  the  'seventies  and  'eighties  came  the  "  professional 
beauties,"  at  whom  old-fashioned  people  at  first  looked 
rather  askance. 

One  professional  beauty,  for  a  joke,  dressed  herself 
up  as  a  flower-girl  and  sold  violets  in  Bond  Street  in  the 
early  hours  of  the  evening,  her  basket  being  emptied 
within  a  few  minutes.  Another,  whilst  on  a  visit  to 
Constantinople,  it  is  said,  so  won  the  admiration  of  the 


SOCIAL  CHANGES  81 

Sultan  that  he  conferred  upon  her  the  order  of  virtue — 
but,  as  some  of  her  friends  pointed  out,  it  was  only  of 
the  second-class. 

Though  in  old  days  it  was  not  unusual  for  ladies  to 
permit  engraved  reproductions  of  their  portraits  to  appear 
in  the  Book  of  Beauty  or  in  one  of  the  picturesque 
annuals  popular  in  society,  it  was  quite  an  innovation 
for  them  to  allow  their  photographs  to  be  sold  to  the 
public,  or  to  figure  with  those  of  actresses  in  shop 
windows. 

The  Burlington  Arcade  in  particular  exhibited  the 
likeness  of  these  beauties,  some  of  whom  afterwards  had 
children  as  beautiful  as  themselves.  Among  actresses, 
Miss  Maude  Branscombe's  photograph  probably  had  the 
largest  sale. 

Since  those  days  weekly  illustrated  papers  have  sprung 
into  existence,  the  main  object  of  which  would  appear 
to  be  furnishing  the  public  with  portraits  of  the  social 
celebrities  of  the  day, 

The  time  has  long  gone  by  when  anyone  would  be 
likely  to  take  exception  to  this,  and  the  majority  of 
young  ladies  in  what  now  passes  for  "  Society "  some 
time  or  other  smile  from  the  pages  of  the  Sketch  or  the 
Taller. 

The  standard  of  English  feminine  beauty  was  probably 
never  higher  than  it  is  to-day. 

Woman's  dress,  after  going  through  numberless 
stages,  has  become  sensible  and  artistic  as  well  as 
pretty. 

Hairdressing,  once  the  weak  point  of  English  women, 
had  vastly  improved,  while  the  disappearance  of  the 
absurd  wasp-waist,  which  had  been  responsible  for  much 
ill-health,  had  made  women  stronger,  freer  and  more 
graceful. 

Before  the  Great  War  the  West  End  fairly  swarmed 
with  pretty  girls.  Though,  owing  to  the  increased 
cost  of  everything,  women  are  not  so  elaborately 
6 


82        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

dressed  as  they  were  seven  years  ago,  there  is  still  an 
amazing  amount  of  beauty  among  them.  In  this  respect 
indeed,  as  ever,  England  continues  to  hold  her  own. 

Bright-eyed,  active  and  healthy,  a  really  beautiful 
Englishwoman  is  Nature's  masterpiece. 

From  a  physical  point  of  view  there  is  nothing  to  com- 
pare with  her  in  all  the  world. 


A   FAIR   LONDONER 


ROUND  BERKELEY  SQUARE 

THE  architectural  transformation  which  has  swept 
over  London  within  the  last  thirty  years  has 
as  yet  not  affected  Mayfair  to  the  same  extent 
as  some  other  districts. 

Sutherland  house,  a  rather  stately  mansion  of  French 
design,  which  sadly  needs  parterres  instead  of  the  small 
streets  which  surround  it,  has  supplanted  Curzon 
Chapel,  while  not  far  away  a  Christian  Science  church  or 
temple  built  in  a  nondescript  if  not  unpleasing  style 
strikes  a  note  of  architecture  hitherto  unknown  to  this 
particular  district. 

Berkeley  Chapel  was  swept  away  a  good  many  years 
ago,  and  one  side  of  Carrington  Street  has  been  rebuilt, 
otherwise  the  aspect  of  Mayfair  remains  fairly  unchanged. 

An  air  of  old-world  quiet  still  pervades  Berkeley 
Square,  which,  besides  having  the  finest  plane  trees 
planted  in  1789,  is  also  the  most  dimly-lit  square  in 
London,  a  state  of  affairs  thoroughly  appreciated  by 
young  ladies  fond  of  taking  the  air  with  a  favourite 
partner  between  the  dances  of  balls  in  the  locality. 

Mayfair  is  totally  deficient  in  monuments,  unless  the 
somewhat  scantily-draped  lady  at  one  end  of  the  Square 
who  provides  an  intermittent  supply  of  water  be 
reckoned  as  such. 

Like  most  of  the  other  drinking  fountains  scattered 
throughout  the  Metropolis  this  has  no  particular  merit. 

Even  the  most  artistic  fountain  of  all,  "  Gilbert's  " 
at  Piccadilly  Circus,  is  lacking  in  proportion,  the  base 
being  much  too  large  for  the  figure  at  the  top ;  whilst 

83 


84        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

others,  like  that  erected  in  1875  at  Park  Lane,  can  lay  no 
claim  at  all  to  being  works  of  art. 

The  original  design  of  this  fountain  could  not  at  first 
be  carried  out  owing  to  the  death  of  Mrs  Brown,  a  rich 
and  benevolent  old  lady  who  had  entrusted  the  commission 
for  it  to  Mr  Thornycroft. 

She  died  before  it  was  completed,  leaving  no  will,  in 
consequence  of  which  this  fountain,  one  of  her  pet  pro- 
jects, suffered,  her  property  being  thrown  into  the  Court 
of  Chancery,  as  a  result  of  which  the  Board  of  Works 
refused  to  supply  water  for  it.  It  appears  that  this  was 
considered  a  promise  made  during  Mr  Ayrton's  tenure 
of  office  to  Mrs  Brown,  who  intended  also  to  leave  the 
munificent  sum  of  £70,000  for  building  public  baths ;  but, 
unfortunately,  she  died  without  a  will. 

In  the  early  days  of  this  fountain,  at  a  time  when 
some  of  the  traditions  of  the  Tom  and  Jerry  period  still 
lingered,  midnight  roysterers  were  fond  of  ducking  one 
another  in  its  waters. 

A  curious  feature  of  the  Victorian  Era,  in  which  water 
can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  been  particularly  popular 
as  a  drink,  was  the  mania  for  putting  up  these  drinking 
fountains,  often  at  considerable  cost. 

The  Gothic  one  on  the  north  side  of  the  Park,  opposite 
Stanhope  Gate,  was  erected  at  the  expense  of  the 
Maharajah  of  Vizianagram.  It  was  designed  by  Mr 
Robert  Keirle,  and  cost  twelve  hundred  pounds. 

The  London  monuments  erected  in  Victorian  days 
were  almost  without  exception  poor  works  of  art.  The 
improvement  since  then  has  not  been  very  great. 

The  monument  to  Miss  Edith  Cavell,  though  some  of 
its  details  are  good,  cannot  be  called  an  unqualified 
artistic  success. 

Somewhat  angular  in  form,  a  caustic  critic  declared 
that  it  looked  as  if  it  had  been  designed  by  Euclid. 

The  most  unsatisfactory  monument  in  London,  con- 
sidering the  enormous  sum  expended  upon  it,  is  the 


ROUND  BERKELEY  SQUARE        85 

Albert  Memorial,  which  embodies  some  of  the  worst 
features  of  Victorian  taste. 

Queen  Victoria,  of  course,  admired  it  greatly,  not  only 
as  a  triumph  of  art  but  also  as  a  tribute,  which  under 
more  favourable  circumstances,  (as  an  Irishman  once 
said,)  the  deceased  Prince  himself  would  have  been  sure 
to  appreciate. 

The  many  statues  of  the  Queen  are  not  particularly 
successful,  though  she  herself  appears  to  have  liked  them. 
At  the  time  of  the  Jubilee  in  1897,  when  it  was  proposed 
to  remove  the  effigy  of  Queen  Anne  outside  St  Paul's 
to  allow  more  room  for  the  Royal  carriage  to  reach  the 
Cathedral  steps,  Queen  Victoria  refused  her  assent. 

If  once  people  begin  moving  statues  of  Sovereigns, 
said  she,  who  can  tell  what  they  may  do  with  mine  ! 

Besides  the  undraped  lady,  Berkeley  Square  formerly 
boasted  an  equestrian  statue  of  George  III  as  Marcus 
Aurelius. 

Owing  possibly  to  the  absurdity  of  attempting  to 
assimilate  good  old  "  Farmer  George  "  to  one  of  the 
greatest  thinkers  of  the  past  this  was  removed  within 
comparatively  recent  times,  its  place  being  now  occupied 
by  a  summer  house  which  no  one  ever  seems  to 
use. 

Berkeley  Square,  though  begun  about  1698,  was  not 
finished  till  the  time  when  SirRobert  Walpole  was  Prime 
Minister ;  he,  indeed,  made  a  note  of  the  last  houses 
being  built  there. 

The  old  Square  has  not  been  the  scene  of  any  very 
exciting  events,  but  during  Lord  Liverpool's  ministry 
artillerymen  were  posted  there,  lighted  match  in  hand, 
ready  to  fire  loaded  field-pieces. 

On  November  22nd,  1774,  a  real  tragedy  occurred  at 
No.  45,  when  Lord  Give,  owing  to  depression,  committed 
suicide 

The  house  in  question  belongs  to  Lord  Powis,  who 
keeps  up  the  old  custom  of  having  his  name  inscribed  on 


86        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

the  brass  doorplate.  This  mansion  is  a  rare  instance 
of  long  continuity  of  tenure. 

The  architecture  of  the  Square  is  in  the  main  dignified 
and  pleasing. 

No.  42  has  a  particularly  finely  designed  entrance, 
while  at  No.  17  may  be  seen  a  good  example  of  the  best 
style  of  trellis  verandah. 

The  memory  of  the  Great  Protector  is  in  a  way  pre- 
served in  "  Mount  Street,"  so  named  after  Oliver's 
Mount,  a  fortified  outwork  of  four  bastions  which  once 
stood  close  by. 

The  Farm  Street  Chapel  in  Mount  Street  succeeded 
that  of  the  Portuguese  Legation,  the  site  of  which  was 
not  far  away.  Novello,  when  organist  there,  is  said  to 
have  written  the  now  customary  music  to  the  "  Adeste 
Fideles." 

Manning  was  received  into  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
at  Farm  Street,  and  at  this  chapel  a  mass  was  specially 
said  for  the  Archduke  Franz  Ferdinand  and  his  wife 
the  morning  before  they  left  London,  to  meet  a  death 
which  plunged  all  Europe  into  the  most  terrible  struggle 
the  world  has  ever  known. 

On  the  north-east  side  of  Berkeley  Square,  at  the 
corner  of  Davies  and  Bourdon  Streets,  Bourdon  Manor 
House,  a  relic  of  past  times,  preserves  the  memory  of 
Miss  Mary  Davis,  by  her  marriage  with  whom  in  1676 
Sir  Thomas  Grosvenor  acquired  the  property  in  Pimlico 
attached  to  Bourdon  farm,  which  alliance  brought  great 
wealth  to  the  Grosvenor  family. 

The  story  of  Sir  Thomas  Grosvenor  having  first  seen 
Miss  Mary  Davis  when  she  brought  him  out  some  milk 
from  the  farmhouse,  her  father  being  a  farmer,  is  not 
based  upon  fact. 

Mr  Davis,  whose  name  is  perpetuated  in  the  street 
close  by,  was  a  man  of  business  who  speculated  in  what 
the  Americans  call  "  real  estate,"  and  had  acquired 
Bourdon  Manor  House  by  exchange,  which  he  is 


ROUND  BERKELEY  SQUARE          87 

said  to  have  regretted,  as  it  was  then  so  far  out  of 
London. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  wealth  of  the  Portmans  is  in 
some  measure  connected  with  milk. 

In  1750  one  of  the  family,  coming  up  to  London  for 
the  season,  was  much  troubled  about  the  health  of  his 
young  wife,  who  was  very  delicate.  He  took  the  best 
medical  opinion,  and  the  doctors  advised  that  the  lady 
should  drink  ass's  milk. 

Learning  from  his  coachman  that  some  asses  kept  for 
this  purpose  were  to  be  found  in  a  small  farm  just  outside 
London,  which  was  for  sale,  the  anxious  husband,  after 
inspecting  the  property,  purchased  it,  and  on  the  land  in 
question  was  afterwards  built  Portman  Square. 

At  No.  ii  Berkeley  Square  lived  Horace  Walpole. 
He  writes,  October  1779  :  "I  came  to  town  this  morning 
to  take  possession  of  Berkeley  Square,  and  am  as  well 
pleased  with  my  new  habitation  as  I  can  be  with  any- 
thing at  present.  Lady  Shelbourne's  being  queen  of 
the  palace  (Lansdowne  House)  over  against  me  has 
improved  the  view  since  I  bought  the  house." 

No.  ii  remained  in  the  Walpole  family  till  the  early 
part  of  last  century,  when  the  fourth  Lord  Orford,  grand- 
father of  the  writer,  lost  it  in  one  night  at  cards  to 
Mr  Baring. 

The  writer's  mother,  who  was  born  there,  used  to 
lament  this  unlucky  escapade  of  her  father's.  She 
cherished  great  affection  for  this  house,  and  among  her 
papers  was  found  a  note  relating  to  it  in  which  the  former 
owners  up  to  1892  were  set  forth. 

Sir  Cecil  Bishop      .         ^  .      .         .  1741-1778 

Horace  Walpole      .         .         .         .  1779-1797 

The  Ladies  Waldegrave  .         .         .  1798-1816 

Lord  Walpole         .         ...         .  1817-1820 

Hon.  R.  Clive         .    ,     .       •  .         .  1821-1822 

Earl  of  Orford        ....  1824-1827 


88        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Henry  Baring       ....  1828-1848 

Mrs  Baring  .         .         .         .         .  1849-1874 

Empty 1875-1876 

Oliver  Gourley  Miller     .         .         .  1877-1878 

Earl  of  Clarendon ....  1879-1891 

Vernon  Watney    ....  1892- 

An  appended  footnote  says :  "  This,  the  east  side  of 
the  Square,  was  first  built  in  1735-1740." 

In  Victorian  days  No.  50  Berkeley  Square  stood  empty 
and  neglected  for  years.  It  was  supposed  to  be  haunted, 
and  all  sorts  of  stories  were  told  as  to  the  strange  things 
which  happened  to  people  who  had  been  inside  it. 

After  many  years  it  was  done  up,  since  which  time 
nothing  further  has  been  heard  of  the  haunting. 

The  origin  of  the  story  seems  to  have  been  that  many 
years  ago  the  owner  (a  connection  of  the  writer's),  having 
been  engaged  to  be  married,  made  all  sorts  of  prepara- 
tions for  the  marriage.  Everything  was  ready  and  the 
wedding  breakfast  laid  in  the  house,  when  on  the  morning 
of  the  marriage-day  the  bride  suddenly  died. 

So  disconsolate  was  the  unfortunate  man  that  he 
never  left  the  house  again,  living  there  with  only  a  servant 
or  two  till  he  died. 

Nor  would  he  have  anything  touched :  the  wedding 
breakfast  remained  on  the  table  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

Neighbours  seeing  tradesmen  occasionally  bringing 
food  in,  but  no  one  ever  going  out,  began  to  think  it 
very  queer,  especially  as  when  the  house  fell  into  dis- 
repair no  effort  was  made  to  put  things  in  order. 

Later  on,  when  the  owner  had  died,  the  building  was 
left  completely  empty,  and  no  doubt  rats  running  about 
among  bell-wires  gave  rise  to  reports  of  mysterious 
noises. 

One  story  produces  another,  and  some  people  declared 
that  a  gang  of  coiners  lived  in  the  deserted  mansion. 

Directly  the  house  had  been  renovated  and  was  once 


ROUND  BERKELEY  SQUARE          89 

more  inhabited,  nothing  more  was  heard  of  all  this, 
and  the  present-day  residents  of  Berkeley  Square  are 
probably  quite  unaware  that  any  house  in  it  was  ever 
supposed  to  have  been  haunted. 

On  the  whole  the  Square,  notwithstanding  certain 
changes — notably  the  new  red-brick  fa$ade  of  Lord 
Rosebery's  house — still  retains  much  of  its  old-world  air 
of  quiet  repose. 

Eighteenth-century  street  architecture  was  usually 
devoid  of  any  pretension  to  especial  decorative  merit, 
but  the  houses  of  that  era  were  not  lacking  in  a  certain 
dignity  of  proportion,  whilst  ample  provision  for  the 
admission  of  light  was  always  to  be  found.  The  ironwork 
of  the  railings  was  also  often  extremely  artistic,  never 
erring  (as  almost  invariably  does  modern  ironwork)  in 
the  direction  of  over-elaboration  and  meaningless 
eccentricity. 

Modern  architects  are  fond  of  small  windows,  which, 
considering  the  not  over-abundant  supply  of  sunshine 
and  light  available  in  London,  seem  somewhat  out  of 
place.  On  one  estate  (I  believe  that  belonging  to  the 
Duke  of  Westminster)  a  clause  in  every  lease  forbids 
the  building  of  a  house  with  any  but  windows  of  very 
moderate  dimensions.  The  old  streets  of  the  West  End 
are  generally  too  narrow  for  the  lofty  houses  now 
so  frequently  being  erected.  How  the  occupants 
of  these  mansions — overshadowed  as  they  must  be 
by  other  giant  constructions  facing  them,  and  for 
the  most  part  only  furnished  with  ridiculous  little 
windows  —  ever  obtain  any  light,  is  a  mystery 
which  their  builders  would  be  considerably  puzzled 
to  explain. 

As  Professor  Dearmer  pointed  out  in  a  lecture  at 
King's  College,  it  apparently  requires  years  of  training 
to  put  up  a  really  ugly  building  or  church,  as  could  be 
proved  by  a  study  of  old  places  in  the  country  where  a 
professional  architect  has  never  been  employed. 


90        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

"Even  the  pig-styes  had  a  sort  of  beauty,"  which  is 
more  than  can  be  said  for  most  modern  buildings.  Not 
content  with  putting  up  a  number  of  architectural 
abominations,  people  of  no  taste  have  done  their  best  to 
disfigure  fine  old  mansions  erected  in  the  past. 

During  the  last  hundred  years  many  fine  old  houses 
built  of  red  brick  were  covered  with  stucco.  Apsley 
House  and  St  George's  Hospital,  for  instance,  as 
Thackeray  put  it  in  "  Vanity  Fair,"  wore  red  jackets 
up  to  the  early  part  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

During  the  end  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  life  Apsley 
House  presented  a  gloomy  appearance.  The  windows, 
shut  up  from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  and  protected  by 
bullet-proof  shutters  of  massive  iron ;  the  very  railings 
in  front  of  the  house  boarded  up,  to  exclude  the  curiosity 
of  the  passers-by — all  owing  to  the  riots  which  preceded 
the  passing  of  the  Reform  Bill,  riots  in  which  there  was 
incendiarism  in  the  provinces,  while  in  the  metropolis 
the  populace  threatened  the  life  of  the  greatest  captain 
of  the  age. 

A  continental  general  would  have  run  away  or  sum- 
moned armed  forces  against  the  rioters.  The  Duke, 
however,  merely  barricaded  his  house  to  the  best  of  his 
ability.  He,  the  Field-Marshal  of  all  European  countries, 
the  Warden  of  the  Cinque  Ports,  the  Commander-in- 
Chief  of  the  British  Army,  issued  no  orders  for  the  drums 
to  beat,  and  no  soldiers  fired  upon  the  misguided  populace. 
When  the  storm  was  over,  however,  he  had  bullet-proof 
shutters  fitted  to  his  windows,  and  those  shutters  he 
kept  always  closed.  Thus  the  people  were  prevented 
from  forgetting  their  brutal  attack  upon  the  old  lion  who 
had  saved  England. 

Mayfair,  on  the  whole,  suffered  from  vandalism  less 

han  did  other  districts,  the  old  box-like  houses  remaining 

unaltered  up  to  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century. 

Though  there  was  no  architectural  beauty  about  them 

they  were  not  devoid  of  dignity  and  charm,  while  their 


ROUND  BERKELEY  SQUARE          91 

railings  and  lamp-holders  of  wrought  iron  were  often 
artistic. 

The  whole  appearance  of  the  streets,  frequented  as 
they  were  by  itinerant  vendors  carrying  their  wares, 
was  much  as  it  was  in  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  Cries,  which  have  long  ceased  to  be  heard,  in  some 
cases  had  been  handed  on  from  a  very  remote  time ;  a 
few  were  not  at  all  unmusical,  and  recalled  a  less  prosaic 
age. 

With  the  lapse  of  years,  practically  all  the  picturesque 
figures  which  formerly  enlivened  the  streets  of  Mayfair 
have  disappeared. 

Up  to  about  the  'eighties  women  in  shawls  and  poke 
bonnets,  with  a  yoke  on  their  shoulders  from  which  hung 
pails,  distributed  milk  throughout  the  district,  and  for 
years  later,  gorgeously  attired  footmen,  as  well  as  coach- 
men in  cocked  hats  and  wigs,  were  often  to  be  seen. 

The  well-appointed  carriages,  together  with  the  fine 
horses  that  drew  them,  vanished  with  the  coming  of  the 
motor. 

About  the  last  picturesque  figure  left  was  the  crossing- 
sweeper  at  the  corner  by  Lansdowne  House,  whose  red 
coat,  a  present  from  a  quondam  master  of  the  buck 
hounds  living  close  by,  struck  a  note  of  colour  which 
enlivened  the  somewhat  sombre  precincts  of  Berkeley 
Square. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  century  houses 
striking  an  incongruous  note  began  to  appear  in  some  of 
the  quiet  old  streets. 

This  was  owing  to  the  architectural  activities  of  a  firm 
of  builders  who  made  a  speciality  of  buying  up  old  houses 
in  the  West  End,  altering  them  to  suit  modern  tastes, 
and  generally  bringing  their  interiors  up  to  date. 

Though  in  many  cases  increased  accommodation  was 
contrived,  old  houses  were  too  often  faced  with  over- 
elaborate  and  unsuitable  fronts. 

The  result   is  especially   apparent   in   Charles   Street 


92        MAYFA1R  AND  MONTMARTRE 

(buili  in  1753-1754),  where  all  sorts  of  incongruous 
architectural  ornamentation  clashes  with  the  simple 
brickwork  of  Georgian  days. 

Previous  to  this  the  first  Lord  Revelstoke  had  made 
two  houses  into  one  and  added  a  somewhat  pretentious 
fa$ade  and  wrought-iron  railings,  which  cost  some  six 
thousand  pounds. 

Berkeley  Chapel,  which  was  at  the  end  of  Charles  Street, 
as  has  been  said,  was  demolished  a  good  many  years  ago. 

Here  Sidney  Smith,  who  afterwards  lived  at  33  Charles 
Street,  was  minister  for  a  time. 

He  wrote  in  November  1835  '•  "  I  have  bought  a 
house  in  Charles  Street,  Berkeley  Square  (lease  for 
fourteen  years),  for  £1400,  and  £10  per  annum  ground 
rent.  It  is  near  the  chapel  where  I  used  to  preach." 
In  a  later  letter  he  speaks  of  the  house  as  "  The  HOLE." 

In  Charles  Street  is  a  public-house,  "  The  Running 
Footman,"  which  with  its  signboard  is  a  survival  of  a 
long-past  age  when  it  was  the  resort-  of  the  numerous 
men-servants  attached  to  the  residents  in  this  vicinity. 

No.  42  was  once  the  abode  of  Beau  Brummell,  and  at 
another  house  in  the  same  street  lived  Bulwer  Lytton, 
who  had  a  room  fitted  up  in  exact  facsimile  of  one  in 
Pompeii. 

Bulwer  Lytton  for  a  time  was  attracted  by  spiritualism 
in  the  hope  of  communicating  with  his  dead  daughter. 
The  vulgarity  of  the  whole  thing,  however,  eventually 
disgusted  him.  He  would  describe  a  typical  conver- 
sation between  one  of  the  frequenters  of  Home,  the 
spiritualist's,  seances  and  the  spirit  of  her  husband. 
"  Are  you,"  asked  the  lady,  "  quite  'appy,  dear — as 
'appy  as  when  you  were  with  me  ?  "  The  reply  came, 
"  Oh,  far,  far  'appier."  "  Then,  indeed,  you  must  be 
in  'eaven,"  sighed  the  lady.  "  No,"  returned  the  gentle- 
man, "  I'm  in  'ell." 

Owing  to  the  novelist  having  lived  in  Charles  Street, 
it  was  not  very  many  years  ago  proposed  to  alter  its  name 


ROUND  BERKELEY  SQUARE          93 

to  Lytton  Street ;  but  owing  to  spirited  protests  from 
residents,  among  whom  the  writer's  mother,  though 
then  well  over  eighty,  took  the  lead,  the  idea  was 
abandoned. 

Charles  Street,  it  may  be  added,  probably  did  not 
derive  its  name  from  the  Merry  Monarch,  but  from 
Charles,  Earl  of  Falmouth,  brother  of  the  first  Lord 
Berkeley  of  Stratton. 

No.  30  Charles  Street  was  formerly  the  Cosmopolitan 
Club,  which  has  now  ceased  to  exist. 

Founded  in  1851  by  Sir  Robert  Morier,  its  bi-weekly 
meetings  were  at  first  held  at  his  rooms,  49  New  Bond 
Street. 

At  the  end  of  the  next  year  Sir  Robert,  then  Mr  Morier, 
joined  the  Diplomatic  Service,  in  which  he  became  such 
a  distinguished  figure,  and  the  Club  then  migrated  to 
the  house  of  Colonel  Stirling,  called  the  "  White  Cottage," 
which  was  approached  through  a  narrow  passage  and 
garden  out  of  Knightsbridge,  opposite  the  Cavalry 
Barracks.  Colonel  Stirling  (afterwards  Sir  Anthony)  was 
Adjutant-General  of  the  Highland  Brigade  in  the  Crimea, 
and  Chief  of  the  Staff  to  Sir  Colin  Campbell  (afterwards 
Lord  Clyde). 

Its  meetings  were  subsequently  moved  to  Crockford's 
old  gaming  rooms,  now  the  Devonshire  Club. 

The  Cosmopolitan  had  by  that  time  become  well 
known,  and  there  were  many  candidates  for  admission. 

Regular  rules  were  drawn  up,  the  object  of  the  Club 
being  set  forth  as  the  promotion  of  social  intercourse 
among  its  members,  and  the  affording  a  place  of  occasional 
resort  to  gentlemen  fron  the  British  Colonies,  or  in  the 
service  of  the  East  India,  or  to  such  other  persons  not 
habitually  living  in  London  as  the  committee  may  think 
it  desirable  to  invite. 

One  of  the  early  members  was  Robert  Lowe  (after- 
wards Lord  Sherbrooke),  who  had  recently  returned 
from  a  high  position  in  Australia.  He  was  then 


94        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

member  for  Kidderminster,  and  a  leader-writer  in 
the  Times. 

Some  years  later,  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  his 
proposals  to  put  a  tax  upon  lucifer  matches  called  forth 
a  perfect  flood  of  ephemeral  literature,  as  well  as  a 
quantity  of  derisive  illustrations,  which  no  doubt  played 
some  part  in  causing  the  abandonment  of  what  was 
regarded  as  a  very  unpopular  tax. 

Others  were  Layard,  fresh  from  his  excavations  and 
discoveries  at  Nineveh  and  Babylon,  and  George  Venables, 
who  had  the  reputation  of  having  broken  Thackeray's 
nose  in  a  fight  when  they  were  boys  together  at  Charter- 
house,— one  of  the  brilliant  writers  who  started  the 
Saturday  Review. 

Watts  and  Ruskin  were  members,  as  was  the  humorous 
and  witty  preacher  at  Berkeley  Chapel,  William  Brook- 
field,  and  Monckton  Milnes,  the  poet,  or,  as  he  was  wittily 
called  by  Carlyle,  "  The  President  of  the  Heaven  and 
Hell  Amalgamation  Society." 

The  Club  room — Mr  Watts'  studio — had  no  windows, 
being  lighted  only  by  a  skylight.  Nevertheless,  when 
lighted  up  at  night  it  was  cheerful  enough.  The  only 
remarkable  piece  of  furniture  was  a  large  screen  portray- 
ing on  each  leaf  some  Chinese  form  of  torture.  Sir 
Henry  Loch  used  to  say  that  when  he  was  in  captivity 
and  hourly  expecting  his  death  at  the  hands  of  the 
Chinese,  his  mind  often  wandered  back  to  the  old  screen 
at  the  Cosmopolitan,  and  the  scenes  which  he  thought 
would  so  soon  be  realized  in  his  own  body. 

In  the  late  'fifties,  the  Cosmopolitan  Club,  having 
grown  in  numbers  and  seeking  larger  premises  for  their 
bi-weekly  meetings,  took  No.  30  Charles  Street,  Mayfair, 
where  Mr  Watts  had  had  his  studio  up  till  the  time 
he  moved  to  Little  Holland  House.  A  large  picture 
painted  by  this  great  artist  still  remained  :  its  idea  had 
been  taken  from  a  story  of  Boccaccio,  put  into  verse  by 
Dryden,  and  entitled  "  Theodore  and  Honoria."  He 


ROUND  BERKELEY  SQUARE          95 

had  painted  it  in  an  outhouse  of  Lord  Holland's  villa  at 
Florence.  The  picture  shows,  stripped  of  her  clothes, 
a  dame  distressed  : — 

"  Her  face,  her  hands,  her  naked  limbs  were  torn 
With  passing  through  the  brakes  and  prickly  thorn. 
Two  mastiffs  gaunt  and  grim  her  flight  pursued, 
And  oft  their  fastening  fangs  in  blood  embrued.  .  .   . 
Not  far  behind,  a  knight  of  swarthy  face 
High  on  a  coal-black  steed  pursued  the  chace." 

This  terrible  apparition  Theodore  shows  to  the  obstinate 
Honoria  at  a  picnic.  It  cured  her  of  her  unwillingness 
to  many  him.  A  member  of  the  Club,  Sir  William 
Stirling  Maxwell,  used  to  say  to  newcomers  : — "  You 
have  heard  of  Watts'  hymns  ?  Well,  this  is  one  of  his 
Hers." 

In  1858  the  Club  entertained  Lord  Clyde  after  the 
Indian  Mutiny. 

Lord  Aberdare  wrote  : — 

"  Our  Cosmopolitan  Dinner  to  Lord  Clyde  went  off 
brilliantly ;  de  Grey  proposed  his  health  in  an  excellent 
speech,  which  the  veteran  acknowledged  in  a  few  simple 
hearty  words  ;  then  came  some  pleasant  speeches  from 
Thackeray,  Lord  Wodehouse,  Lord  Stanley,  Monckton 
Milnes,  Layard,  etc." 

In  the  'sixties  the  Club  was  full  of  celebrities — 
Laurence  Oliphant,  Speke,  the  discoverer  of  the  sources 
of  the  Nile  ;  Kingslake,  the  second  Lord  Lytton  ;  Tenny- 
son, Millais,  Leighton,  Thackeray,  Anthony  Trollope, 
and  Froude. 

Swinburne  was  brought  in  one  night  as  a  visitor. 
"  Who  is  that  man,"  asked  a  member,  "  who  looks  like 
the  Duke  of  Argyll  possessed  of  a  devil  ?  " 

The  record  of  the  Club,  it  will  be  seen,  was  a  very 
interesting  one  ;  however,  like  some  other  Victorian  insti- 
tutions, it  did  not  survive  long  into  the  twentieth  century. 

In  1903  it  was  found  that  the  House  in  Charles  Street 


96        MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

required  immediate  and  expensive  repairs,  for  which 
the  resources  of  the  Club  would  not  provide.  The 
lease  accordingly  was  sold,  the  Club  wound  up,  and 
the  Boccaccio  picture,  which  the  Club  had  bought  for 
£200,  was,  with  the  sanction  of  Mr  Watts,  presented  to 
the  Tate  Museum.  But,  for  the  convenience  of  exist- 
ing members,  an  arrangement  was  made  which  entitled 
them  to  meet  during  a  year  or  two  on  the  customary 
Sundays  and  Wednesdays  at  the  rooms  of  the  Alpine 
Club  in  Savile  Row. 

A  good  deal  might  be  written  about  the  vanished 
Clubs  of  London. 

There  was  the  "  Alfred "  in  Albemarle  Street,  for 
instance,  founded,  it  is  said,  by  Sir  Thomas  Bernard,  Bart., 
and  opened  on  January  ist,  1809,  which  was  absorbed 
into  the  "  Oriental "  in  1855.  Unkind  people  called  it 
the  "  Half -read,"  which  was  untrue,  as  many  of  its 
members  were  travellers  and  men  of  letters.  According 
to  Byron,  who  belonged  to  it,  this  Club  was  pleasant 
though  rather  serious  in  tone,  and  the  poet  found  it  a 
decent  recourse  on  a  rainy  day  or  when  town  was  empty. 

Lord  Derby,  on  the  other  hand,  described  it  as  being 
in  his  time  the  dullest  place  in  existence — the  asylum 
of  doting  Tories  and  drivelling  quidnuncs. 

The  "  Fielding  "  was  another  Club  which  had  a  com- 
paratively short  existence. 

The  first  mansion  used  as  a  Club  in  the  modern  sense 
of  the  word  is  said  to  have  been  No.  89  Pall  Mall,  after- 
wards part  of  the  War  Office,  a  house  originally  built 
for  Edward  Duke  of  York,  brother  of  George  III.  At 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  what  was  then  called 
a  "  subscription  house  "  was  opened  in  these  premises, 
then  the  Albion  Hotel. 

The  old  idea  of  a  Club  was  somewhat  different  from 
what  it  is  to-day.  To  begin  with,  men  dined  more  in 
their  own  houses  or  rooms,  "  a  dinner  at  the  Club  " 
being  considered  by  many  as  quite  an  event. 


ROUND  BERKELEY  SQUARE          97 

Also,  clubs  were  more  solemn  places  than  they  have 
since  become,  while  certain  privileged  old  members  had 
their  own  special  arm-chair  and  special  table  in  the 
coffee  room. 

Most  members  lunched  wearing  their  hat,  and  some 
wore  it  when  dining  as  well. 

Though  comfortable  in  a  solid  sort  of  way,  there  was 
little  ornamentation  to  be  seen  in  the  clubs  of  the  past. 
As  late  as  the  'eighties  pictures  were  few  in  number, 
curtains  and  wall-paper  crude  in  colour,  the  general 
effect  being  such  that  one  West  End  club  was  supposed 
to  have  been  decorated  under  the  supervision  of  its  cook. 
The  members,  however,  cared  little  about  this;  what 
they  wanted  was  a  comfortable  chair  to  sit  in  and  good 
food  and  drink,  and  these  they  certainly  got  even  better 
than  to-day. 

Clubs  then,  frequented  as  they  were  by  a  limited 
number  of  members,  were  run  very  much  like  a  com- 
fortable country  house — if  no  attention  was  paid  to  art, 
great  care  was  exercised  as  to  keeping  the  rooms  spot- 
lessly clean.  The  table  linen  also  was  of  the  finest 
quality;  in  short,  an  air  of  solid  old- world  comfort  pervaded 
West  End  clubs,  in  which  old  gentlemen  often  enjoyed 
a  sort  of  prescriptive  right  to  certain  comfortable  arm- 
chairs and  were  treated  with  a  ceremonious  respect 
which  has  now  become  a  thing  of  the  past. 

It  was  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  clubs  to  have  a 
music-room  with  a  piano,  to  which  the  members  might 
resort  should  they  wish  to  play  or  -sing. 

Rules  were  few  in  number. 

A  club  in  those  days  still  remained  more  or  less  what 
it  had  originally  been  designed  to  be — a  member's  own 
private  house,  where  he  had  every  facility  to  do  as  he 
chose. 


VI 
THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR 

AS  a  great  city  develops,  lanes,  footpaths,  and 
even  bridle-paths,  grow  into  busy  thoroughfares. 
Berkeley  Street,  for  instance,  was  originally 
only  a  narrow  lane  at  the  western  extremity  of  Piccadilly. 
The  whole  neighbourhood  retained  traces  of  its  rural 
character  up  to  a  comparatively  recent  time.  A  cow- 
house existed  in  the  grounds  of  old  Mexborough  House 
till  the  demolition  of  that  mansion  not  so  very  many  years 
ago,  it  having  been  the  practice,  till  the  fields  in  the 
vicinity  were  all  built  over,  to  send  the  cows  out  to  graze, 
they  being  brought  back  to  Berkeley  Street  every  evening. 

The  old  aristocracy  were  fond  of  new  milk,  and  many 
of  them  had  cowhouses,  of  which  the  one  on  the  slope 
leading  from  Mexborough  House  to  Berkeley  Street  was 
the  last. 

At  No.  9  Berkeley  Street  lived,  about  1715,  the  poet 
Alexander  Pope.  It  is  believed  that  his  "  Farewell  to 
London  "  was  written  here.  From  the  poet  it  passed 
into  the  hands  of  General  Bulkeley,  and  a  later  occupant 
of  the  house  well  remembered  that  whenever  that  gentle- 
man visited  it  after  it  had  ceased  to  be  his  own,  it  was 
his  invariable  habit  to  observe,  with  an  air  of  respectful 
interest,  "  This  is  the  house  Mr  Alexander  Pope  lived  in." 

After  the  owner,  Lord  Berkeley's  death,  Berkeley 
Street  and  Stratton  Street — at  first  known  as  "  Little 
Barkley  Street  " — were  built  on  part  of  the  gardens,  by 
his  widow  (Lady  Berkeley  of  Stratton),  and  in  1697  the 
first  Duke  of  Devonshire  bought  the  mansion,  which  was 
burnt  down  in  1733. 


THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR  99 

The  present  house,  erected  after  a  design  by  Kent, 
was  built  by  the  third  Duke,  its  style  being  much  criti- 
cized. It  was  said  to  be  equally  spacious  and  equally 
deserving  of  praise  as  the  East  India  Company's  ware- 
houses. 

During  the  Gordon  riots  in  1790  Devonshire  House 
was  garrisoned  by  soldiers.  The  external  double  flight 
of  stairs  leading  to  an  entrance  on  the  first  floor  was 
removed  in  1840 ;  this  removal  was  scarcely  an 
improvement. 

About  this  time  considerable  alterations  were  made 
in  the  interior  of  the  house,  the  general  effect  of  which, 
though  gorgeous,  gives  reason  for  regret. 

The  fine  iron  gate  was  inserted  in  the  wall  in  front  of 
the  house  by  the  last  Duke,  who  brought  it  to  London 
from  Chiswick  House. 

The  disappearance  of  Devonshire  House  which  now 
(1921)  seems  imminent,  will  further  curtail  the  ever- 
lessening  number  of  fine  old  mansions  in  the  West 
End. 

Lansdowne  House,  which  at  present  seems  safe,  was 
built  in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  having  been 
begun  by  the  Earl  of  Bute,  from  the  design  of  Robert 
Adam.  In  1765  the  former  sold  the  unfinished  house  to 
William,  Earl  of  Shelburne,  for  £22,500,  by  which  he 
was  supposed  to  have  lost  £3000.  Lord  Shelburne  put 
a  roof  on  and  otherwise  completed  it,  after  which  he 
gave  a  housewarming  on  Monday,  August  1st,  1768. 
Lord  Shelburne  was  called  the  Jesuit  of  Berkeley  Square 
by  George  III.  His  librarian  and  literary  companion 
during  the  winters  of  seven  years  was  Dr  Priestley. 

Talleyrand,  when  he  came  to  England  in  1792,  was  a 
constant  visitor  at  Lansdowne  House,  and  frequently 
dined  there,  which  shows  that  the  cooking  must  have 
been  good,  for  he  always  attached  great  importance  to 
what  he  ate,  and  even  when  eighty  years  old  used  to 
spend  nearly  an  hour  every  morning  with  his  cook,  dis- 


100       MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

cussing  the  dishes  which  were  to  compose  the  one  meal 
he  took  during  the  day — dinner. 

Two  things,  he  used  to  say,  were  essential  in  life — to 
give  good  dinners  and  keep  well  with  women,  both  of 
which  precepts  he  always  followed. 

The  wily  old  diplomatist  inspired  Careme  with  real 
enthusiasm. 

"  M.  de  Talleyrand,"  said  that  great  chef,  "  understands 
the  genius  of  a  cook ;  he  respects  it ;  he  is  the  most  com- 
petent judge  of  delicate  progress,  and  his  expenditures 
are  wise  and  great  at  the  same  time." 

It  was  to  Car£me  that  the  Prince  Regent  once  said  : 
"  Care"me,  you  will  make  me  die  of  indigestion ;  I  am 
fond  of  everything  you  give  me,  and  you  tempt  me  too 
much."  "  Monseigneur,"  replied  the  chef,  "  my  principal 
office  is  to  challenge  your  appetite  by  the  variety  of  my 
service ;  but  it  is  not  my  affair  ro  regulate  it."  The 
prince  smiled,  saying  that  he  was  right,  and  Careme 
continued  to  supply  him  with  the  best. 

The  only  breviary  used  by  the  ex-bishop  was  "  L'lm- 
provisateur  Francais,"  a  compilation  of  anecdotes  and 
bon  mots,  in  twenty-one  duodecimo  volumes.  Whenever 
a  good  thing  was  wandering  about  in  search  of  a  parent, 
he  adopted  it,  among  others  :  "  This  is  the  beginning  of 
the  end." 

There  seems  to  be  little  doubt  but  that  Talleyrand 
was  in  reality  the  father  of  Count  Flahaut,  who  had  been 
aide-de-camp  to  Napoleon  I,  and  was  French  Ambassador 
in  London  during  the  Second  Empire.  The  latter's 
daughter,  Baroness  Nairne  in  her  own  right,  became  the 
second  wife  of  the  fourth  Marquess  of  Lansdowne. 

The  present  Marquess,  therefore,  is  the  great-grandson 
of  the  wily  diplomatist  who  in  his  sacerdotal  capacity 
celebrated  Mass  at  the  feast  of  pikes. 

The  gardens  of  Lansdowne  House  practically  join  those 
of  Devonshire  House,  a  huge  mansion  built  upon  the  site 
of  Hay  Hill  farm,  remains  of  which  are  to  be  found  in 


THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR          101 

the  names  of  Hay  Hill,  Hill  Street,  and  Farm  Street. 
It  replaced,  in  1733,  Berkeley  House,  an  older  mansion 
built  in  1665. 

The  district,  though  always  fashionable,  was  at  one 
time  haunted  by  dangerous  characters.  A  stout  iron 
bar  still  stands  in  the  doorway  of  Lansdowne  Passage 
in  Berkeley  Street.  This  was  put  up  at  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century  to  hamper  highwaymen,  one  of  these 
gentry  having  effected  his  escape  after  a  robbery  in 
Piccadilly  by  galloping  through  the  passage  from  Curzon 
Street,  his  horse  successfully  negotiating  the  steps. 

In  1774  a  coach-load  of  people  were  attacked  and 
robbed  on  Hay  Hill,  and  at  the  same  place  George  IV 
and  the  Duke  of  York,  when  young  men,  were  made  to 
stand  and  deliver  by  highwaymen  who  stopped  their 
hackney  carriage  at  this  place.  George  IV  always 
used  to  declare  that  the  man  who  robbed  him  was  none 
other  than  Champneys  the  singer.  The  reason,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  why  no  great  stir  was  made  about  this 
affair  was  that  the  Prince  Regent  would  have  had  to 
account  for  his  whereabouts  the  evening  before  the 
robbery  took  place,  which  would  have  been  inconvenient. 

Within  recent  times,  owing  to  the  darkness  of  Berkeley 
Square — it  is,  as  has  before  been  said,  the  darkest  square 
in  London — persons  have  been  attacked  there,  and  in 
1889  a  serious  outrage  occurred  in  the  very  heart  of 
Mayfair. 

One  winter's  night  the  French  naval  attache",  who 
was  going  home  from  his  club,  was  set  upon  in  Curzon 
Street  by  four  men  who,  after  violently  assaulting  and 
robbing  him,  left  him  senseless  upon  the  ground,  where 
he  was  discovered  by  the  police  a  short  time  afterwards. 
The  assailants  in  this  case  were  never  arrested,  though 
the  whole  affair  created  a  great  sensation,  occurring  as 
it  did  in  the  very  centre  of  a  quarter  generally  considered 
to  be  about  the  safest  in  London. 

When  Chesterfield  House,  close  by,  was  built  the  neigh- 


102       MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

bourhood  was  quite  rural,  the  owner  having  been  able 
to  contemplate  green  fields  from  the  front  of  a  mansion 
which  in  1747  was  on  the  extreme  verge  of  the  town. 

The  ground  belonged  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of 
Westminster,  and  Lord  Chesterfield  owed  them  a 
grudge  for  what  he  considered  their  exorbitant 
demands.  In  his  will  he  inserted  the  following  clause  : 
"  In  case  my  godson,  Philip  Stanhope,  shall  at  any 
time  hereafter  keep  or  be  concerned  in  keeping  any 
racehorses  or  pack  of  hounds,  or  reside  one  night  at 
Newmarket,  that  infamous  seminary  of  iniquity  and 
ill-manners,  during  the  course  of  the  races  there  ;  or 
shall  resort  to  the  said  races  ;  or  shall  lose  in  any  one 
day  at  any  game  or  bet  whatsoever  the  sum  of  £500, 
then,  in  any  of  the  cases  aforesaid,  it  is  my  express  will 
that  he,  my  said  godson,  shall  forfeit  and  pay  out  of 
my  estate  the  sum  of  £50,000,  to  and  for  the  use  of  the 
Dean  and  Chapter  of  Westminster."  Lord  Chesterfield 
declared  that  he  inserted  these  names  because  he  was 
certain  that  if  the  penalty  was  incurred  they  would  be 
sure  to  claim  it. 

Lord  Chesterfield  also  built  Great  Stanhope  Street. 

The  gardens  of  Chesterfield  House,  to  which  allusion 
has  been  made  above,  were  built  over  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  last  century.  Chesterfield  Gardens  now 
occupies  their  site.  The  sale  of  this  land,  it  is  said, 
brought  in  as  much  as  the  vendor  had  paid  for  the  house 
and  grounds  together. 

A  room  in  Chesterfield  House  is  represented  in  the 
well-known  picture  of  Dr  Johnson,  waiting  in  disgust 
and  irritation  for  an  interview  with  his  noble  patron  ; 
but  the  date  of  that  event,  1749,  was  previous  to 
that  on  which  Lord  Chesterfield  entered  upon  his 
occupation. 

Lord  Chesterfield  was  particularly  proud  of  the  large 
courtyard  in  front  and  the  large  garden  behind,  two 
things  rare  in  London,  though  then  common  in  Paris. 


THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR  103 

Writing  to  a  friend,  he  called  his  library  the  best  room 
in  England. 

Above  the  bookcases  were  a  series  of  portraits  of 
celebrated  authors  let  into  white  ornamental  frames 
in  the  walls.  Over  the  fireplace  was  Shakespeare,  by 
Zucchero ;  the  others  were  Chaucer,  Sir  Philip  Sidney, 
Spenser,  Ben  Jonson,  Milton,  Sir  John  Denham,  Butler, 
Waller,  Cowley,  Earl  of  Dorset,  Rochester,  Dryden, 
Wycherley,  Congreve,  Otway,  Prior,  Addison,  Pope, 
Rowe,  and  Swift.  These  portraits,  after  the  sale  of  the 
house  in  the  latter  portion  of  the  last  century,  were 
taken  away.  Happily  they  are  now  for  the  most  part 
once  more  in  their  old  settings,  having  fortunately  been 
repurchased  by  the  new  owner,  Lord  Lascelles,  who  has 
done  much  to  restore  the  artistic  glories  of  Lord  Chester- 
field's fine  old  mansion,  while  filling  it  with  suitable 
furniture  of  a  highly  artistic  description. 

At  No.  4  Chesterfield  Street  George  Brummell,  with 
the  aid  of  an  excellent  cook  and  admirable  wines,  attracted 
all  the  wit,  talent  and  profligacy  of  the  Regency.  He 
afterwards  moved  to  No.  13  Chapel  Street. 

No.  10.  Chesterfield  Street  is  a  well-designed  house  of 
excellent  proportions,  with  delicate  iron  balconies. 

Curzon  Street,  which  took  its  name  from  the  ground 
landlord,  George  Augustus  Curzon,  third  Viscount  Howe, 
has  had  a  number  of  interesting  residents. 

Here  George,  Lord  Macartney,  Ambassador  to  China, 
died.  Madame  Vestris  lived  at  No.  i  in  1822-23  '>  while 
No.  8  was  for  many  years  one  of  the  chief  rallying-points 
of  literary  society,  having  been  the  residence  of  the 
Misses  Berry  as  late  as  1852. 

They  disliked  too  many  ladies  being  present  at  their 
receptions,  and  limited  the  number  by  making  their 
servant  Murrell  put  out  the  lamp  over  the  front  door 
when  Miss  Berry  called  to  him,  "  No  more  petticoats." 

From  1805  to  1810  Francis  Chantrey  the  sculptor,  as 
a  young  man,  lived  in  an  attic  at  No.  24.  He  was  here 


104       MAYFA1R  AND  MONTMARTRE 

when  he  won  the  competition  at  the  Royal  Academy 
School  for  an  equestrian  statue  of  George  III. 

At  No.  19,  after  a  tenancy  of  three  months,  on  April 
igth,  1881,  died  Lord  Beaconsfield.  During  his  last 
illness,  part  of  his  time  was  occupied  in  the  cor- 
rection of  his  last  speech  in  the  House  of  Commons  for 
Hansard. 

"  I  will  not,"  said  he,  "  go  down  to  posterity  as  talking 
bad  grammar." 

In  Curzon  Street,  opposite  May  Fair  Chapel,  was 
"  the  Rev.  Alexander  Keith's  Chapel,"  where  marriages 
were  performed  in  the  manner  as  those  which  made  the 
Fleet  Prison  notorious.  Here  the  Duke  of  Kingston 
married  Miss  Chudleigh,  and  in  1752  James,  fourth  Duke 
of  Hamilton,  married  the  youngest  of  the  two  beautiful 
Miss  Gunnings,  a  bed  curtain  ring  being  used  on  the 
occasion.  Keith  was  in  the  habit  of  advertising  in  the 
newspapers,  but  the  Marriage  Act  in  1753  put  an  end 
to  his  iniquitous  trade. 

Keith  issued  regular  advertisements  of  his  matrimonial 
industry.  The  following  is  a  specimen  :  "To  prevent 
mistakes  the  little  new  chapel  in  May  Fair,  near  Hyde 
Park  Corner,  is  in  the  corner  house  opposite  to  the  city 
side  of  the  great  chapel ;  and  within  ten  yards  of  it. 
The  minister  and  clerk  live  in  the  same  corner  house 
where  the  little  chapel  is ;  and  the  licence  on  a  crown 
stamp,  minister  and  clerk's  fees,  together  with  the  certi- 
ficate, amount  to  one  guinea,  as  heretofore  at  any  hour, 
tiD  four  in  the  afternoon,  and  that  it  may  be  better 
known,  there  is  a  porch  at  the  door  like  a  country  church 
porch." 

The  large  garden  of  Bath  House,  Piccadilly,  with  a 
stone  basin  of  water,  once  extended  nearly  into  Curzon 
Street. 

Bath  House  was  originally  built  by  the  celebrated 
William  Pulteney,  Earl  of  Bath,  who  was  living  here  in 
1764.  Sir  William  Pulteney  was  the  solitary  inhabitant 


THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR  105 

of  the  house  for  many  years,  and  at  his  death  it  was  let 
to  the  Duke  of  Portland  for  eight  years.  The  house  was 
rebuilt  in  1821  by  Alexander  Baring,  who  was  created 
Lord  Ashburton  in  1835.  He  was  for  eighteen  years  the 
head  of  the  great  house  of  Baring  Brothers,  whose  family 
have  had  many  houses  in  Mayfair. 

A  good  type  of  eighteenth-century  architecture  is 
No.  61  Curzon  Street,  a  brick  house  built  in  1750,  in  which 
the  balance  between  large  and  small  bays  is  well  main- 
tained, while  the  doorway  serves  as  a  foil  to  the  general 
air  of  severity. 

No.  14,  built  in  1766,  has  a  front  which  carries  on  an 
earlier  tradition. 

Just  off  Curzon  Street,  through  Shepherd  Market,  is 
Carrington  Street,  a  cul-de-sac,  at  the  corner  of  which 
stands  Carrington  House,  with  a  rather  curious  facade. 

Kitty  Fisher  lived  in  this  street,  one  side  of  which 
more  or  less  retains  its  eighteenth-century  aspect. 

Shepherd  Market  (sometimes  wrongly  called  Shepherd's 
Market)  was  never  a  meeting-place  for  shepherds,  as  its 
name  seems  to  indicate.  "  Shepherd  "  was  the  name  of 
the  owner  of  the  ground,  on  which  the  market  was  built. 

Shepherd  Market  is  one  of  the  few  localities  near 
Piccadilly  which  have  remained  unaltered  for  the  last 
fifty  years. 

Viewed  from  the  corner  of  Whitehorse  Street,  its 
appearance — with  a  squat  block  of  houses  prominently 
displaying  the  date,  1860,  as  if  the  architect  had  been 
proud  of  his  work,  recalls  the  London  of  Dickens. 

Though  there  is  no  beauty  about  the  spot,  the  general 
effect  is  more  picturesque  than  that  produced  by  many 
finer  sites,  a  quaint  relic  of  the  past  in  Shepherd  Street 
being  the  fagade  of  the  eighteenth-century  riding  school, 
which,  unfortunately,  is  likely  soon  to  disappear. 

Curiously  enough,  another  gentleman  of  the  same  name, 
though  differently  spelt,  "  Jack  Sheppard,"  lived  for  a 
time  in  this  district  in  1723.  He  does  not,  however, 


106      MAYFA1R  AND  MONTMARTRE 

appear  to  have  shown  any  professional  activity  in  the 
district. 

The  "May  fair"  was  held  on  the  site  of  this  market, 
Hertford  Street  and  Curzon  Street,  and  some  other  streets. 

Near  by,  with  a  front  in  Piccadilly,  was  Coventry 
House  (now  the  St  James'  Club),  which  in  a  roofless 
state  Lord  Coventry  had  bought  from  Sir  Hugh  Hunlock. 
The  perpetual  noise  and  uproar  which  went  on  by  night 
as  well  as  by  day  during  the  whole  month  of  May,  owing 
to  the  fair,  so  irritated  and  annoyed  this  nobleman 
that  he  determined  to  make  an  effort  to  have  it  totally 
suppressed.  As  early  as  1709  it  had  been  prohibited, 
but,  though  the  Grand  Jury  of  the  City  of  Westminster 
had  characterized  it  as  a  vile  and  riotous  assembly, 
within  a  few  years  it  was  once  more  revived.  Lord 
Coventry,  however,  was  eventually  successful  in  his 
efforts  to  abolish  it,  and  no  "  May  fair  "  seems  to  have 
been  held  much  after  1764,  the  date  at  which  he  entered 
into  possession  of  his  new  house. 

The  fair  was  originally  known  as  St  James's  Fair, 
leave  having  been  granted  by  Edward  I  to  the  Hospital 
of  St  James's  to  hold  it  in  another  locality  close  by. 

Suppressed  after  the  Restoration,  it  appears  to  have 
flourished  once  more  in  1691,  when  it  had  been  moved 
to  the  site  which  it  occupied  till  its  final  suppression. 

A  notice  in  the  Postman  informed  the  public  that 
"  On  the  ist  day  of  May  next  will  begin  the  Fair  at  the 
east  end  of  Hide  Park,  near  Bartlet  House,  and  continue 
for  fifteen  days  after.  The  two  first  days  of  which  will 
be  for  the  sale  of  Leather  and  live  Cattle ;  and  care  is 
and  will  be  taken  to  make  the  ways  leading  to  it,  as  well 
as  the  ground  on  which  it  is  kept,  much  more  convenient 
than  formerly  for  persons  of  quality  that  are  pleased  to 
resort  thither." 

On  the  site  of  part  of  Carrington  Street  stood  the 
"  Dog  and  Duck,"  an  old  wooden  public-house,  noted 
for  the  sale  of  "  Right  Lincoln  Ale,"  behind  which  was 


THE  HEART  OF  MAYFA1R  107 

a  sheet  of  water  200  feet  square,  surrounded  by  a  willow- 
shaded  gravel  walk  ten  feet  wide.  This  was  the  notorious 
ducking  pond,  to  which  visitors  were  allowed  to  bring 
their  dogs  to  assist  at  the  capture  of  some  unfortunate 
duck.  Twopence  was  charged  by  the  proprietor  for  a 
ticket  of  admission,  but  the  amount  was  allowed  in  the 
reckoning  ;  and  in  a  handbill,  dated  1748,  the  reason 
of  such  charge  is  said  to  be  in  order  to  keep  out  "  such 
as  are  not  liked."  The  memory  of  the  "  ducking  pond  " 
is  still  preserved  by  Ducking  Pond  Mews  just  off  Shepherd 
Street. 

Close  by,  at  No.  10  Hertford  Street,  from  1793  to  1801, 
lived  Sheridan. 

The  house  at  present  is  tenanted  by  that  admirable 
actor  and  most  vivacious  and  amusing  of  Etonians,  Mr 
Charles  Hawtrey — in  many  ways  a  man  after  the  great 
playwright's  own  heart. 

At  No.  14  once  lived  Dr  Jenner. 

The  Marquis  of  Wellesley,  then  Earl  of  Mornington, 
lived  in  Hertford  Street,  in  the  years  1788-97,  as  did 
Mrs  Jordan,  when  under  the  protection  of  the  Duke  of 
Clarence.  George  Ill's  brother,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland, 
was  married  to  Anne,  widow  of  Colonel  Christopher 
Horton  and  daughter  of  Simon,  Lord  Irnham,  after- 
wards Earl  of  Carhampton,  at  the  lady's  house  in  this 
street. 

Of  the  streets  leading  from  Mayfair  into  Piccadilly, 
Bolton  Street  was  built  about  the  year  1699,  when  it  was 
the  most  westerly  street  in  London.  The  celebrated 
Earl  of  Peterborough  lived  in  this  street,  and  Charles 
Edward,  the  young  Pretender,  is  said  to  have  lain  in 
concealment  in  one  of  the  houses  there. 

At  No.  12  lived,  in  1818,  Fanny  Burney — Madame 
D'Arblay — a  lady  who  occupied  several  other  houses  in 
London. 

Clarges  Street  was  built  by  Sir  Walter  Clarges,  twelve 
houses  being  finished  in  1717.  A  number  of  celebrated 


108      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

people  have  lilved  in  this  street,  including  Mrs  Delany, 
the  impetuous  old  Admiral  Lord  St  Vincent,  Miss 
O'Neil  the  actress,  Lady  Hamilton,  Edmund  Kean  and 
Lord  Macaulay,  who  lodged  at  No.  3  on  his  return  from 
India. 

Another  member  of  the  family,  Sir  Thomas  Clarges, 
appears  to  have  had  a  house  on  the  site  which  is  now 
covered  by  the  "  Albany." 

Half  Moon  Street  was  built  in  1730,  and  took  its  name 
from  the  sign  of  the  public-house  at  the  corner,  which 
still  existed  in  1759.  In  1768  Boswell  lodged  in  this 
street  on  his  visit  to  London,  and  here  he  entertained 
Dr  Johnson  and  other  literary  characters.  Madame 
D'Arblay  lived  at  No.  i  during  the  last  few  years  of  her 
life.  Other  celebrated  residents  have  been  Pope,  who 
lived  at  No.  5,  and  William  Hazlitt,  who  resided  at 
No.  29  in  1830. 

Dover  Street  was  named  after  Henry  Jermyn,  Earl 
of  Dover,  nephew  and  heir  of  Henry,  Earl  of  St  Albans, 
who  owned  the  ground,  and  had  a  house  on  the  east 
side  of  the  street.  John  Evelyn  lived  in  a  house  on  the 
east  side  in  1699,  and  among  other  notable  residents 
was  John  Nash  the  architect,  who  resided  at  No.  29 
from  1800  to  1823.  The  facade  of  this  house  deserves 
attention. 

At  No.  30  lived  Prince  Lieven,  the  Russian  Ambassador, 
and  another  inhabitant  of  note  was  Miss  Reynolds, 
sister  of  Sir  Joshua. 

There  is  some  good  architecture  in  this  street. 

Among  the  streets  leading  out  of  Berkeley  Square 
Brut  on  Street  (called  after  Sir  John  Berkeley,  of  Bruton, 
the  owner  of  Berkeley  House)  has  always  been  fashion- 
able. The  celebrated  Duke  of  Argyll  died  here  in  1734. 

"  Yes,  sir,  on  great  Argyle  I  often  wait, 
At  charming  Sudbrook  or  in  Bruton  Street." 

It  is  said  that  when  Sheridan  lived  in  this  street  his 


THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR  109 

landlord  found  that  he  could  get  neither  his  rent  nor 
induce  Sheridan  by  any  means  to  go.  At  length,  as  his 
only  recourse,  he  unroofed  the  house. 

The  architecture  of  No.  17  is  worth  attention.  It 
has  an  interesting  facade,  the  effect  of  which,  however, 
is  somewhat  marred  by  the  attic  story,  which  is  a  Victorian 
addition. 

In  1700  the  site  of  New  Bond  Street  and  the  adjoin- 
ing streets,  Conduit  Street,  Brook  Street,  etc.,  was  an 
open  field,  called  the  Conduit  Mead,  containing  twenty- 
seven  acres,  and  belonging  to  the  City  of  London.  The 
district  was  practically  rural.  About  this  time,  indeed, 
a  thief  who  had  stolen  a  silver  mug  from  Dr  Sydenham's 
house  in  Pall  Mall  got  away  and  was  lost  in  the  bushes 
about  Bond  Street. 

It  is  notorious  that  General  Oglethorpe,  who  died  in 
1785,  had  shot  woodcock  in  the  meadows  where  Conduit 
Street  now  stands,  and  it  is  said  that  there  was  once  good 
trout  fishing  in  the  stream  which  ran  from  Netting  Hill 
Manor  towards  Hay  Hill,  Berkeley  Square,  through 
Brook  Street,  Grosvenor  Square,  which  was  built  on  the 
banks  of  this  stream  where  it  ceased  to  blend  with  the 
Eye. 

About  1877  a  resident  in  Conduit  Street,  making  a 
search  for  the  origin  of  certain  unpleasant  smells,  found 
a  stream  running  under  his  house,  the  water  of  which 
was  very  far  from  pure. 

Oliver  Cromwell's  conduit  in  Park  Street  probably 
received  its  name  from  the  Protector's  connection  with 
the  fortifications  drawn  round  the  city  and  suburbs 
in  1643. 

Excavations  in  Berkeley  Square  about  1882  brought 
to  light  a  number  of  wooden  pipes  made  out  of  lengths 
of  elm  trees  drilled  through  the  centre.  These  had 
probably  been  laid  down  by  the  New  River  Company. 

During  the  present  year  (1920)  workmen  engaged 
in  repairs  in  New  Bond  Street  broke  into  a  long 


110      MAYFA1R  AND  MONTMARTRE 

empty  red  brick  tunnel,  five  feet  across  and  six  feet 
high,  the  existence  of  which  was  hitherto  unknown.  It 
was  traced  84  feet — as  far  as  Clifford  Street  in  one 
direction,  and  as  far  as  Conduit  Street  at  the  other — 
being  apparently  blocked  at  each  of  these  ends. 

The  conduit  in  question  was  evidently  connected 
with  the  Tyburn,  the  ancient  course  of  which  in  the 
Green  Park  has  even  now  not  entirely  disappeared,  a 
winding  depression  indicating  where  it  formerly  flowed. 
There  was  formerly  a  pond  in  the  middle  of  this  park, 
but  this  was  filled  up  in  1842,  at  the  same  time  that  the 
ranger's  lodge  was  razed  to  the  ground. 

Park  Lane  was  originally  known  as  Tyburn  Lane, 
owing  to  its  having  led  to  Tyburn  turnpike.  On  the 
site  formerly  occupied  by  Gloucester  House,  where  the 
late  Duke  of  Cambridge  lived,  once  reposed  the  Elgin 
marbles  brought  to  England  by  Lord  Elgin,  the  public- 
spirited  Ambassador  to  the  Porte,  who  was  roundly 
abused  for  saving  these  fine  relics  of  antiquity  from 
destruction,  and  lost  between  seventeen  and  eighteen 
thousand  pounds  by  his  sale  of  them  to  the  nation. 

At  Dorchester  House  died  in  1842  the  celebrated 
Marquis  of  Hertford — Thackeray's  Lord  Steyne.  The 
house,  however,  has  been  rebuilt  since  that  day. 

At  No.  29  (formerly  No.  i  Grosvenor  Gate)  resided 
Lord  Beaconsfield,  who  went  to  live  there  on  his  marriage 
with  Mrs  Lewis  in  1839. 

On  her  death  in  1872  he  removed  to  Whitehall  Gardens. 
"  Sybil  "  and  "  Coningsby  "  were  written  in  Park  Lane. 

Other  celebrities  who  have  lived  in  Park  Lane  are 
Warren  Hastings  in  1790-1797,  and  a  succeeding 
Governor  of  India,  the  Earl  of  Mornington,  who  was 
created  Marquis  of  Wellesley  in  1796 ;  and  Mrs  Fitz- 
herbert,  who  was  married  in  her  drawing-room  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales  on  December  2ist,  1785. 

At  Hyde  Park  Corner,  the  arch  now  at  the  top  of 
Constitutional  Hill  formerly  stood  parallel  with  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR          111 

entrance  gates  of  the  park,  and  it  was  not  till  long 
after  the  years  under  consideration  that  the  Duke  of 
Wellington's  statue  was  erected  upon  it.  This  statue, 
which  had  no  artistic  merit,  but,  it  is  said,  was  approved 
of  by  the  great  Duke  himself,  was  removed  to  Aldershot 
when  the  position  of  the  arch  was  altered,  a  new  statue 
by  Boehm  being  erected  close  to  the  park  gates. 

The  most  satisfactory  of  this  new  statue  are  the  four 
soldiers  which  stand  at  the  base,  which  are  more  virile 
than  their  rather  apologetic-looking  leader,  who  sits 
on  his  horse  above  them. 

Hyde  Park  has  not  undergone  much  alteration  within 
recent  years,  but  in  the  past  various  schemes  have 
sought  to  impair  its  amenities. 

One  of  the  most  appalling  ideas  ever  mooted  was 
a  proposal  to  erect  a  railway  station  as  terminus  to  a 
projected  London  and  Richmond  railway  on  the  left- 
hand  side  just  within  the  entrance  at  Hyde  Park  Corner. 
It  is  curious  that  though  the  principal  gate  of  the  Park, 
this  entry  has  no  name.  The  north-east  entrance  of 
the  park,  the  Marble  Arch,  was  removed  to  its  present 
position  in  1851 ;  before  that  date  it  stood  in  front 
of  Buckingham  Palace.  Near  the  gate,  facing  Great 
Cumberland  Place,  was  the  place  of  execution  known 
as  Tyburn,  and  when  a  wall  used  to  enclose  this  corner 
military  executions  were  carried  out  within  it.  In  this 
spot  were  erected  the  only  gallows  ever  set  up  in  Hyde 
Park ;  this  was  for  the  purpose  of  hanging  Sergeant 
Smith,  who,  in  1745,  had  deserted  to  the  Scotch 
rebels. 

The  rangership  of  the  Parks  was  at  one  time  quite 
an  important  appointment.  It  was  held  from  1762 
to  1791  by  George,  Lord  Orford,  one  of  whose  eccentri- 
cities was  driving  a  four-in-hand  of  stags. 

During  the  rangership  of  Lord  Essex  in  1739  an  otter 
hunt  took  place  in  St  James's  Park.  At  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  a  summer  day,  Sir  Robert  Walpole's 


112      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

pack  of  otter  hounds,  which  had  been  borrowed  for  the 
occasion,  appeared  upon  the  scene,  and  after  a  hunt 
which  lasted  two  hours,  the  otter,  having  left  the  water 
and  tried  to  run  to  the  great  canal,  was  speared  by  a 
Mr  Smith  who  hunted  the  hounds. 

St  James's  Park  is  the  smallest  of  all  the  parks ;  but 
it  is  a  perfect  jewel  amidst  the  buildings  which  surround 
it  on  all  sides.  On  its  glossy  lake  fine  shrubs,  and  beeches, 
and  ash-trees  on  the  banks  throw  their  trembling 
shadows ;  tame  water-fowl  of  every  description  swim 
on  it  or  waddle  on  the  green  sward  near,  and  eat  the 
crumbs  which  the  children  have  brought  for  them. 
The  paths  are  skirted  with  flower-beds,  with  luxurious 
grass-plots  behind  them ;  and  on  sunny  days  these 
grass-plots  are  crowded  with  happy  children,  who  prefer 
this  park  to  all  others,  for  the  water-birds  are  such 
grateful  guests. 

On  the  Continent,  too,  there  are  parks ;  they  are 
larger,  and  are  taken  more  care  of,  and  by  far  more 
ornamental  than  the  London  parks.  But  all  strangers 
who  come  to  London  must  find  that  their  imperial  and 
royal  palace  gardens  at  home,  with  all  their  waterworks 
and  Chinese  pagodas,  Greek  temples,  and  artificial 
romanticisms,  do  not  make  anything  like  that  cheerful, 
refreshing,  tranquillizing,  and  yet  stimulating  impression 
which  the  parks  of  England  produce. 

Deer  remained  in  Kensington  Gardens  up  till  the 
beginning  of  the  last  century,  and  according  to  Thomas 
Smith,1  foxes  were  hunted  here  at  the  end  of  the  last 
century.  Mr  Smith  found  a  Minute  of  the  Board  of  Green 
Cloth,  dated  1798,  in  which  a  pension  is  granted  to  Sarah 
Gray,  widow,  in  consideration  of  the  loss  of  her  husband, 
who  was  accidentally  shot  by  the  keepers  while  hunting 
foxes. 

The  tendency  of  fashionable  London  seems  ever  to  be 
westwards. 

1 "  Recollections  of  Hyde  Park,  1*36,"  p.  39. 


THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR  113 

With  reference  to  Mr  Davis's  regrets  at  finding  Bourdon 
House  too  far  out  of  town,  long  after  his  day  this  part 
of  London  was  considered  to  be  somewhat  outlandish. 
At  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  for  instance, 
Sir  Watkin  Williams-Wynn  was  offered  the  ground 
now  occupied  by  Lansdowne  House,  in  Berkeley  Square, 
for  £60,000,  the  same  sum  being  asked  for  the  site  in 
St  James's  Square,  which  he  then  bought.  The  Lans- 
downe House  property  was  at  the  time  considered  to  be 
too  far  from  the  centre  of  fashion. 

At  the  beginning  of  Queen  Victoria's  reign  Belgrave 
Square  had  not  long  been  finished,  and  Eaton  Square, 
Chesham  Place,  and  the  adjoining  streets  were  in  course 
of  completion.  The  Lowndes  Arms,  a  public-house,  was 
one  of  the  few  houses  in  that  locality.  Sloane  Street  was 
not  the  fashionable  locality  it  is  now,  but  was  the  resort 
of  maiden  ladies  of  small  means. 

The  fashionable  district  of  Belgravia  was  built  on 
ground  known  as  the  "  Five  Fields,"  on  the  verge  of 
which  Tattersall's,  so  long  known  as  the  "  Corner,"  was 
established  behind  St  George's  Hospital  in  1793. 

The  Bloomsbury  and  Bedford  Square  district,  built 
between  1790  and  1810,  was  once  highly  popular ;  the 
well-built  houses,  some  of  which  are  now  once  again 
regaining  a  well -deserved  prestige,  giving  palpable 
evidence  of  having  seen  better  days.  The  date  when 
this  quiet  neighbourhood  first  began  to  enter  upon  a 
period  of  social  decay  was  about  1828,  when  a  great 
removal  towards  the  West  End  set  in.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century  much  of  the  rank  and  fashion 
of  the  town  lived  there,  as  may  be  observed  from  the 
fine  architecture  of  old  houses  in  Great  Ormond  Street 
and  Queen  Square. 

As  late  as  1871,  Brompton,  lying  low,  was  supposed  to 

be  a  first-rate  resort  for  consumptive  people  on  account 

of  its  moist  and  warm  air.     Such  an  idea,  of  course,  was 

exactly  opposed  to  the  teachings  of  modern  science,  which 

8 


114      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

prescribes  widely  different  conditions  as  being  necessary 
for  the  cure  of  that  white  scourge — tuberculosis. 

South  Kensington,  close  by,  only  arose  about  1854, 
when  the  once  rural  Chelsea  was  already  becoming 
crowded  with  poor,  living  in  miserable  dwellings,  nearly 
all  of  which  have  been  swept  away  to  make  room  for 
high-class  residences. 

Clapham  and  Hackney  still  contained  fine  villas  and 
mansions,  which  were  the  abode  of  rich  merchants,  many 
of  which  class  to-day  are  carried  in  luxurious  motor-cars 
either  to  palatial  mansions  in  the  West  End,  or  further 
afield,  right  out  of  London. 

When  the  Marquis  of  Westminster  made  his  extensive 
clearings,  Tattersall's  was  removed  to  a  spot  lying  near 
the  junction  of  the  Brompton  and  Kensington  Roads, 
where  it  has  remained  ever  since. 

Already,  however,  the  fine  old  houses  were  falling 
before  the  pick.  In  1873  was  demolished  the  last  remain- 
ing example  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren's  work  in  Camber- 
well — an  educational  establishment ;  for  years  it  had 
been  celebrated  as  one  of  the  foremost  grammar  schools 
in  the  country.  This  old  mansion  was  identified  with 
many  interesting  historical  memories  from  the  fact 
of  it  having  at  one  time  been  the  residence  of  Mrs 
Thrale  and  the  family  who  founded  the  great  firm 
of  Barclay,  Perkins  &  Co.,  when  Dr  Johnson  was  a 
frequent  visitor  there. 

Soho  once  had  many  distinguished  residents,  and  was 
the  scene  of  pomp  and  gaiety  and  splendour. 

It  is  possible  that  in  course  of  time  Mayfair  will  cease 
to  be  a  smart  residential  district. 

Shops  have  already  invaded  Hanover  Square,  Dover 
Street,  Grafton  Street,  and  other  formerly  exclusive 
thoroughfares. 

It  is  also  not  impossible  that  Berkeley  Square  may 
eventually  be  awakened  from  the  aristocratic  sleep  in 
which  it  ever  seems  to  be  plunged,  and  that  having  been 


THE  HEART  OF  MAYFAIR          115 

thrown  open  to  the  public,  tramps  and  loafers  will  take 
their  rest  upon  benches  within  its  once  semi-sacred 
precincts. 

The  glories  of  Mayfair  in  any  case  lie  more  in  the  past 
than  the  future.  Its  halcyon  days  essentially  belong 
to  the  age  of  privileged  aristocracy,  with  which,  no 
matter  what  may  befall,  its  name  will  ever  be  linked. 


VII 
THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON 

I  SOMETIMES  wonder  if,  after  all,  we  really  did 
win  the  war.  To  judge  by  the  present  state  of 
London  we  have  lost  it,  and  are  being  treated  as 
a  beaten  people  by  some  austere  conqueror. 

The  truth  is  that  we  are  dragooned  and  policed  as  no 
civilized  nation  has  ever  been  before.  Told  when  we 
are  to  leave  our  clubs,  and  go  to  bed ;  told  when  we 
are  not  to  drink  (soon  it  will  be  what  we  are  to  drink)  ; 
and  turned  out  of  the  theatres,  which  the  authorities 
have  so  kindly  left  open,  supperless  to  bed. 

The  modern  night  life  of  London  is  now  about  as 
exciting  as  that  of  Criccieth,  and  ends  about  the  same 
hour — ten. 

Puritanism  and  cant  have  triumphed  gloriously  all 
along  the  line.  Things  could  not  have  been  worse  were 
a  victorious  enemy  in  possession  of  the  town. 

In  the  way  of  regulations  and  interference  with 
personal  liberty  our  rulers  have  out-Prussianized  the 
Prussians.  Never  in  their  wildest  dreams  did  the  latter 
ever  contemplate  forcing  people  to  leave  their  clubs 
at  midnight. 

It  should  not  be  forgotten  that,  when  the  vexatious 
restrictions  under  which  we  suffer  were  introduced 
during  the  war,  definite  and  serious  assurances  were 
given  that  once  Peace  was  declared  they  would  at  once 
be  allowed  to  lapse. 

The  politicians,  however,  as  is  their  wont,  have  lied. 

We  used  to  be  told  that  the  Great  War  was  to  make 
the  world  "  safe  for  democracy."  In  England  at  least 

116 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      117 

the  last  word  might  now  well  be  changed  for  hypocrisy, 
such  life  and  vivacity  as  existed  up  to  1914  having  been 
more  or  less  "  regulated  "  out  of  existence. 

The  astounding  thing  is  that  this  unwarrantable  inter- 
ference should  have  been  accepted  by  the  public  with 
sheep-like  docility.  Had  that  clever  apostle  of  true 
liberty,  Mr  Cecil  Chesterton,  not  died  owing  to  illness 
contracted  while  serving  at  the  front,  I  have  no  doubt 
but  that  things  would  have  been  made  more  uncomfort- 
able for  our  oppressors ! 

As  the  Parisian  said  of  the  Germans  :  "Us  ont  rudement 
change  nos  habitudes — ces  Cochons  la  !  " 

Before  the  war  a  club  was  considered  as  being  the 
private  house  of  its  members ;  to-day  the  institution  in 
question  has  been  assimilated  to  the  public-house. 

So  fearful  is  the  Government  of  bad  behaviour,  that 
clubs  are  obliged  to  close  their  doors  at  12.30  on  all  days 
but  Saturday  and  Sunday,  when,  as  a  concession  to 
Sabbatarian  prejudice,  12  o'clock  is  the  prescribed  hour 
for  members  to  leave. 

Nor  can  the' latter  be  trusted  to  imbibe  alcohol  at  their 
own  sweet  will,  the  hours  during  which  anyone  may 
have  a  drink  being  strictly  limited  and  denned. 

The  attitude  of  most  of  the  House  of  Commons 
towards  this  unwarrantable  curtailment  of  personal 
liberty  (which  as  a  matter  of  fact  was  enforced  without 
its  consent  being  asked),  while  generally  feeble  and 
unsatisfactory,  is  in  the  case  cf  some  members  positively 
insolent. 

The  subject  of  the  compulsory  closing  of  clubs  being 
under  discussion,  a  wealthy  M.P.  with  a  fine  house 
remarked  that  he  did  not  see  there  was  anything  to 
grumble  at.  "I  always  go  to  bed  early,"  said  he.  The 
inferencej  of  course,  being  that  as  long  as  he  was  com- 
fortable amid  his  luxurious  surroundings,  it  didn't  matter 
what  other  people  were  made  to  put  up  with  ! 

In  this  country  going  to  bed  early  is  supposed  to 


118      MAYFA1R  AND  MONTMARTRE 

promote  all  sorts  of  mysterious  blessings,  and  those 
who  complain  of  being  made  to  retire  supperless  at 
midnight  are  told  that  "  it's  such  a  good  thing  for  one's 
health,  don't  you  know." 

"  6u  il  y  a  de  I'hygtene 
II  n'y  a  plus  de  plaisir." 

Retiring  to  rest  at  a  set  hour  when  one  is  amused  and 
not  sleepy  is  as  ridiculous  as  is  staying  up  when  one 
happens  to  be  tired. 

Goodness  knows  we  shall  sleep  long  enough  eventually, 
for  which  reason  we  ought  to  take  full  advantage  of  every 
pleasurable  hour  or  minute  we  can. 

A  person  who  habitually  goes  to  bed  early,  no  matter 
how  great  the  attractions  which  might  keep  him  up, 
throws  away  part  of  his  life. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  people  who  go  to  bed  late  live  just 
as  long  as  those  who  don't. 

Provided  an  individual  obtains  sufficient  sleep,  it 
does  not  matter  a  jot  whether  he  goes  to  bed  late  or 
early.  The  Easterns,  who  sleep  only  when  they  feel 
inclined,  know  this.  Taking  too  little  sleep  may  be 
hurtful,  but  there  is  no  benefit  in  taking  too  much. 

Liberty,  like  charity,  should  begin  at  home,  and  the 
hour  for  retiring  to  bed  is  a  man's  own  business — the 
State  has  no  right  to  coerce  him. 

The  whole  question  of  personal  liberty  has  been 
admirably  summed  up  by  a  writer  in  the  Paris  Temps, 
who,  concerning  what  he  aptly  termed  the  Era  of  Re- 
strictions, said : 

"  A  free  country  is  one  where  there  is  no  encroach- 
ment upon  the  liberty  of  any  of  its  citizens — no  matter 
how  few ;  should  there  be  only  one  hundred  persons  or 
even  only  one  who  is  coerced  without  necessity,  the 
principle  of  Liberty  is  violated,  and  exists  no  longer." 

The  truth  of  this  has  been  recognized  in  France,  where 
social  liberty  once  more  prevails. 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      119 

To  what  lengths  Puritan  fanaticism  is  capable  of 
going  may  be  judged  from  its  dismal  eccentricities  in 
the  United  States,  where  Senator  Jones,  intoxicated  with 
victory  and  intolerance,  actually  tried  to  get  a  measure 
passed  forbidding  all  American  citizens  abroad  who  are 
members  of  the  American  diplomatic  and  consular 
services,  to  serve  alcoholic  liquors  at  public  or  official 
functions,  or  to  recognize  clubs  where  such  beverages 
are  dispensed.  The  Bill  provided  drastic  penalties  for 
infringement,  a  second  offence  entailing  imprisonment 
from  six  months  to  six  years. 

But  this  is  not  the  last  limit  of  folly. 

Fanatical  extravagance,  indeed,  seems  to  know  no 
bounds  in  the  so-called  land  of  the  free  across  the 
Atlantic. 

Representative  William  D.  Upshaw,  of  Georgia,  appa- 
rently desirous  of  making  life  miserable  for  his  country- 
men even  when  abroad,  has  introduced  a  Bill  in  the 
House  which  forbids  the  taking  of  liquor  by  American 
diplomat  and  consular  agents,  and  also  forbids  them 
to  attend  banquets,  dinners,  or  other  functions  where 
liquor  is  served.  Mr  Upshaw  was  for  several  years 
a  lecturer  for  the  Anti-Saloon  League  and  also  a  director 
of  the  International  Reform  Bureau.  The  Bill  has 
been  sent  to  the  Judiciary  Committee. 

About  one  of  the  best  digs  ever  administered  to  tee- 
totallers was  what  a  clever  American — William  Maxwell 
Evarts — said  of  President  Hayes'  method  of  running 
his  household.  "  While  Hayes  occupied  the  White 
House,"  said  Evarts,  "the  water  at  his  dinners  flowed 
like  champagne." 

Those  who  claim  to  improve  humanity  seem  quite 
unable  to  realize  that  our  nature  ought  to  be  taken 
as  it  is.  Any  tolerant  scrutiny  of  human  foibles,  how- 
ever, being  liable  to  upset  preconceived  narrow  convic- 
tions, is  disagreeable  to  folk  who  will  not  face  facts. 
Wordsworth  called  Voltaire  a  dull  scoffer,  with  reference 


120      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

to  which  Byron,  defending  his  Don  Juan  to  a  friend — 
the  Hon.  Douglas  Kinnaird — in  1822  wrote  :  "  I  have 
no  objection  to  be  in  such  good  company.  I  am  per- 
suaded that  Nero,  Caligula,  and  such  worthies  as  Caesar 
Borgia,  will  come  out  much  better  characters  at  the 
Day  of  Judgment,  and  that  bishops  and  all  other 
saints,  pious  and  grave,  will  be  the  chief  losers  at  that 
solemnity." 

The  Press  is  fond  of  talking  about  "  Wonderful 
London."  "  Wonderful  London  !  "  indeed,  with  its 
inhabitants  debarred  from  supping  or  using  their  clubs 
(which  are  really  their  own  houses)  after  midnight 
merely  because  the  Government  fears  to  displease 
certain  faddists  !  Meanwhile,  dancing  places  which  do 
not  call  themselves  clubs  are  allowed  to  remain  open 
up  to  any  hour  their  proprietors  choose ! 

Wonderful  London  !  with  no  music-halls  into  which 
a  man  can  drop  in  and  walk  about  for  half  an  hour  in 
the  evening,  as  he  can  do  in  every  other  capital  in  Europe. 

Wonderful  London  !  with  a  horde  of  Paul  Prys  in- 
terfering with  other  people's  affairs  and  doing  their 
best  to  get  wretched  women  hounded  from  pillar  to 
post  under  the  long-exploded  pretext  that  such  a  cruel 
policy  makes  for  a  higher  morality. 

A  really  "  Wonderful  London"  would  be  possible  were 
counsels  of  common  sense  to  prevail,  but  at  present,  under 
the  dominance  of  the  faddist  and  the  crank,  "  Idiotic 
London  "  would  surely  be  a  more  correct  appellation 
for  the  greatest  city  in  all  the  world,  the  inhabitants  of 
which  allow  themselves  to  be  ruled  by  regulations  which 
before  the  Great  War  would  not  have  been  tolerated 
in  even  a  small  provincial  town. 

When  things  get  to  their  worst,  however,  they  gener- 
ally get  better,  and  in  all  probability  the  Puritans,  flushed 
with  victory  and  lemonade,  will  eventually  become  so 
unreasonable  in  their  proposals  as  to  produce  a  reaction 
permeated  by  tolerance  and  common  sense. 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      121 

A  long  period  of  years,  however,  will  probably  elapse 
before  anything  of  this  kind  is  likely  to  happen,  and 
in  the  meanwhile  we  must  be  prepared  for  an  ever 
increasing  number  of  senseless  and  harassing  regulations. 
Under  present  conditions  it  is  difficult  to  realize  that 
before  the  passing  of  the  Licensing  Act  in  the  early 
'seventies,  which  closed  public-houses  and  restaurants 
at  12.30,  London  was  practically  as  late  a  city  as 
Paris. 

In  1914  the  absurdity  of  turning  people  out  of 
restaurants  before  they  had  finished  their  supper  was 
beginning  to  be  realized,  and  there  was  some  idea  that 
the  closing  hour  would  be  extended  till  one. 

Under  cover  of  the  war,  however,  middle-class  Puritan- 
ism has  succeeded  in  doing  away  with  supper  altogether ; 
and  after  about  eleven  o'clock  London  is  now  like  a 
city  of  the  dead. 

Gone  are  the  days  when  at  eleven-thirty  pleasure- 
seekers  of  both  sexes  drove  up  to  the  doors  of  various 
restaurants  in  the  hansoms  which  the  coming  of  the 
taxi  relegated  to  the  fate  of  the  family  coach  and  the 
sedan  chair. 

Supper  in  London  is  now  a  thing  of  the  past.  Before 
the  war,  however,  great  numbers  of  people  indulged  in 
it,  never  dreaming  that  in  the  years  to  come  all  alcohol 
was  to  be  prohibited  after  ten  o'clock. 

In  the  'eighties  Rule's  in  Maiden  Lane  was  much 
frequented  at  supper-time  by  young  men-about-town 
and  fair  ladies  whom  they  flocked  to  admire  on  the  stage. 
Romano's,  then  a  very  small  place,  was  of  course  the 
headquarters  of  the  old  style  Gaiety  chorister  and  her 
admirers  of  the  Crutch  and  Tooth-pick  brigade,  also 
known  as  "  Mashers,"  an  important  part  of  whose  even- 
ing garb  was  a  silk-lined  Inverness  cape. 

The  name  "  Crutch  and  Toothpick  "  originated  from 
the  black  silver-mounted  walking-sticks  with  crutch 
handles  which  these  young  men  carried  at  night,  and 


122      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

the  toothpicks  which  they  languidly  sucked  during  the 
performance. 

They  were  perhaps  not  so  vacuous  as  they  were 
supposed  to  be;  anyhow,  if  they  did  little  good  they 
did  no  harm  to  anyone  except  themselves. 

There  is  nothing  to  correspond  to  them  to-day,  when 
dandies,  bucks,  and  bloods  have  ceased  to  exist ;  every- 
one more  or  less  has  been  ground  down  to  the  same 
pattern. 

Not  a  few  of  these  young  men  were  in  debt,  but  some- 
how or  other  tradesmen  generally  contrived  to  get  their 
money  in  the  end,  though  they  often  had  to  put  up 
with  many  rebuffs.  One  spark  who  was  about  to  get 
into  his  gig  was  stopped  by  a  creditor  who  very  civilly 
said  he  did  not  wish  to  press  for  his  money  but  only 
wanted  to  have  some  idea  as  to  when  it  would  be  con- 
venient to  pay  him. 

"  I  don't  feel  disposed  to  gratify  your  impertinent 
curiosity,"  said  the  young  fellow,  and  coolly  drove 
away. 

A  lady  was  descanting  on  the  virtues  of  her  son, 
a  young  gentleman  given  to  backing  horses  and  bills, 
who  had  uttered  many  promissory  notes,  to  the  small 
benefit  of  creditors.  "  Don't  you  think,  my  dear  sir," 
she  said,  addressing  a  friend  who  had  suffered  through 
this  pleasing  trait  in  his  character,  "  that  he  is  a  very 
promising  young  man  ?  "  "  Very  promising,  my  lady, 
but — he  never  pays." 

Such  a  state  of  affairs,  however,  could  not  go  on  for 
ever,  and  in  the  end  a  number  of  these  young  gentlemen, 
having  got  rid  of  then-  patrimony,  had  to  look  about 
for  a  way  to  live.  Some  went  abroad,  some  into  the 
City ;  a  few  even  tried  to  go  on  the  stage. 

Dick  Dunn  once  received  a  ticket  for  a  performance 
in  which  a  quondam  masher  was  to  take  part.  He 
went,  and  in  the  interval  was  asked  to  go  behind  by  the 
aspirant  to  dramatic  fame. 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      123 

"  Well,  Dick,"  enquired  the  latter,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  me  ?  " 

"  I've  seen  Kean,  I've  seen  McCready,  and  I've  seen 
Irving,"  said  the  famous  bookmaker,  "  but  never,  oh 
never,  acting  like  this — take  it  which  way  you  like,  sir, 
and  'ave  a  cigar." 

Most  of  the  ladies  who  assisted  to  keep  alight  the 
sacred  lamp  of  burlesque  were  well  able  to  hold  their  own. 

A  devoted  admirer  was  allowed  by  one  fair  creature 
to  go  with  her  to  choose  (and  pay  for)  some  dainty 
and  expensive  lingerie. 

"  Have  a  good  look  at  them,  dear,"  said  she ;  "  you'll 
never  see  them  again." 

The  pendulum  of  fashion  swings  backwards  and 
forwards  on  the  stage  as  well  as  in  ordinary  life. 

In  the  'seventies  and  'eighties  the  famous  Gaiety 
chorus  as  well  as  some  of  the  principals  wore  tights; 
in  the  'nineties  they  wore  as  many  clothes  as  possible ; 
since  then  their  costume  has  at  times  been  reduced  to 
a  minimum. 

The  Globe  (only  closed  a  few  years  ago)  was  at  one 
time  a  great  resort  for  supper,  but  it  was  not  such  a 
quiet  place  as  Rule's  or  even  Romano's,  and  in  the 
'eighties  fights  were  not  unknown  there. 

Another  haunt  of  men  of  pleasure  was  the  Continental, 
a  restaurant  now  pulled  down  at  the  lower  end  of  Regent 
Street,  which  up  to  the  beginning  of  the  present  century 
was  notorious  as  one  of  the  liveliest  supper  places  in  town. 

Here  the  fair  sex  were  wont  to  meet  swains  after 
the  theatres  had  closed.  Attached  to  the  restaurant, 
which  at  night  was  crowded,  was  a  hotel,  the  visitors 
to  which  cannot  have  had  a  dull  time. 

A  foreign  diplomatist  who  arrived  about  midnight, 
having  had  to  push  his  way  upstairs  through  a  hilarious 
crowd  of  gorgeously  attired  ladies,  enquired  whether 
a  party  was  being  given  that  evening. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  maitre  d'hotel,  "  we  give  a  party 


124      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

every  evening,"  and,  he  might  have  added,  "  a  very 
lively  party  too." 

Eventually  the  exit  of  those  who  had  been  supping 
attracted  a  crowd  outside,  with  the  result  that,  like 
"  Jimmie's,"  a  somewhat  inferior  supper-place  of  the 
past,  the  Continental  ceased  to  exist. 

The  regular  frequenters  of  the  freer  forms  of  amuse- 
ments, such  as  night  clubs,  were  in  the  'eighties  mainly 
men-about-town,  who  were  more  or  less  known  to 
everyone  in  the  West  End. 

They  still  retained  some  remnant  of  the  social  prestige 
and  power  which  their  predecessors  of  an  earlier  age 
had  enjoyed  to  the  full,  with  the  result  that  anyone 
not  of  their  own  set  who  had  made  his  way  into  one  of 
their  special  haunts  was  liable  to  have  things  made 
hot  for  him. 

The  West  End  at  that  time  had  not  as  yet  been 
dominated  by  the  wealthy  financiers — alien  as  well  as 
native-born — who  now  hold  it  under  their  thumbs. 

In  those  days  people  went  to  the  night  clubs  well 
knowing  what  class  would  constitute  the  majority  of 
the  female  frequenters.  No  lady,  for  instance,  would 
have  dreamt  of  entering  the  Gardenia,  or  even  the 
Corinthian,  which  yet  was  something  more  than  a 
resuscitated  night-house,  for  actresses  of  the  lighter 
stage  were  occasionally  to  be  seen  there. 

To-day,  owing  to  the  social  confusion  produced  by  the 
hypocritical  suppression  of  every  place  of  amusement 
which  does  not  pose  as  being  strictly  respectable,  young 
girls  and  married  women  are  to  be  seen  dancing  merrily 
away  in  very  mixed  assemblages. 

By  a  ridiculous  refinement  of  stupid  hypocrisy  the 
demi-monde  is  supposed  to  be  extinct.  This  in  reality 
means  that  the  most  ancient  profession  in  the  world 
plies  its  trade  in  secret  while  mixing  with  girls  and 
women  whose  morality  is  above  suspicion. 

What  this  state  of  affairs  leads  to  may  be  judged 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      125 

from  the  ever-increasing  number  of  cases  in  the  divorce 
court. 

The  old  system  was,  of  course,  far  more  healthy; 
however,  owing  to  the  terror  inspired  by  those  posing 
as  moralists  and  social  reformers,  there  seems  little  chance 
of  the  triumph  of  sanity  and  common  sense. 

The  Corinthian  Club  in  York  Street,  St  James's, 
which  flourished  in  1889,  was  about  the  most  successful 
of  the  old  night  clubs,  frequented  as  it  was  by  many 
pretty  ladies,  some  of  whom  were  minor  stars  of  the 
lighter  stage. 

It  was  not  badly  conducted,  and  the  Bohemian  life 
of  the  London  of  that  day  received  a  blow  when  it  was 
closed. 

The  end  of  the  Corinthian,  I  believe,  arose  owing  to 
the  protests  of  a  householder  close  by,  who  complained 
that  he  could  not  sleep  owing  to  the  noise  made  by 
cabs  coming  and  going  all  night.  The  dancing-room 
of  the  Corinthian,  which  still  exists,  would  appear  to 
have  formerly  been  the  "  French  Chapel,"  originally 
built  for  Honore  Courtin,  the  envoy  of  Louis  XIV  to 
Charles  the  Second,  the  French  Embassy  at  that  time 
being  just  round  the  corner  at  No.  8  St  James's  Square. 

The  chapel  in  question  figured  in  the  list  of  London 
places  of  worship  up  to  quite  recent  times.  At  the 
time  it  was  used  as  a  dancing  room,  traces  of  its 
ecclesiastical  origin  could  still  be  discerned. 

In  the  'eighties  and  early  'nineties  the  "  Star  and 
Garter "  at  Richmond  was  popular  on  Sundays. 
Couples  drove  down  in  smart  hansom  cabs,  and  after 
an  abundant  lunch  strolled  about  on  the  slopes  beneath, 
where  an  itinerant  photographer  did  quite  a  good 
business  taking  their  photographs — a  rather  simple 
form  of  amusement  which  would  scarcely  appeal  to 
the  more  sophisticated  young  people  of  to-day. 

The  portraits  in  question  were  taken  on  metal  and 
covered  with  glass,  the  result  being  somewhat  primitive. 


126      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

In  those  days  a  lady's  handkerchief  would  be  dyed 
with  coffee,  and  other  devices  employed  to  counteract 
the  effects  of  light,  since  rendered  unnecessary  by  new 
discoveries. 

By  the  'nineties  the  old  night  life  of  London  had  pretty 
well  become  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Though  apt  to  be  rough  sometimes,  even  brutal,  it 
was  characteristically  English,  a  survival  of  the  virile 
days  of  Trafalgar  and  Waterloo;  there  was  indeed 
nothing  cosmopolitan  about  it  except  some  of  the  ladies 
and  the  drinks.  On  the  whole,  it  was  probably  a  better 
worldly  training  for  young  men  than  the  lolling  about 
luxurious  restaurants  which  took  its  place. 

In  the  way  of  amusements  the  triumph  of  middle- 
class  intolerance  may  now  be  said  to  be  complete. 

The  Argyll  Rooms,  Vauxhall,  Cremorne  Gardens, 
and  other  Bohemian  haunts  have  long  been  closed  for 
ever.  In  the  early  Victorian  days  as  many  as  two 
hundred  open-air  pleasure  resorts— dancing-places,  tea- 
gardens  and  the  like — were  open  for  Londoners'  amuse- 
ment. To-day,  almost  entirely  owing  to  the  efforts  of 
insensate  Puritanism,  there  are  none. 

Such  delights  as  Ranelagh,  Vauxhall  and  Cremorne 
once  offered  are  denied  to  the  present  generation,  which, 
placidly  allowing  itself  to  be  enmeshed  with  restrictions, 
seems  indisposed  to  protest  against  any  curtailment 
of  personal  liberty,  no  matter  how  unreasonable  or 
absurd. 

Puritanism  has  decreed  that  the  citizens  of  the  greatest 
city  in  the  world  must  not  spend  their  summer  evenings 
in  the  open  air,  and  the  populace  consequently  is  herded 
into  the  music-hall  and  cinema,  where  carefully 
censored,  but  for  the  most  part  inane,  entertainments 
occupy  the  abundant  hours  of  leisure  which  its  more 
hard-working  and  more  independent  forbears  never  had 
at  their  disposal. 

From  time  immemorial  the  English  people  have  been 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      127 

passionately  fond  of  evening  outdoor  amusements ; 
while  their  pastors  and  masters  have  been  as  passion- 
ately persistent  in  their  endeavours  to  deprive  them — 
always  on  the  highly  sustainable  plea  of  decorum  and 
morality — of  any  evening  outdoor  amusements  what- 
soever. 

Precisely  the  contrary  rule  has,  in  all  times,  and  under 
all  governments,  prevailed  in  France.  Outdoor  games, 
shows,  and  merrymakings  have  always  been  systema- 
tically sanctioned  and  encouraged  by  authority ;  and 
under  the  Restoration,  when  a  feeble  effort  was  made  by 
the  Government  to  suppress  the  popular  suburban  balls, 
the  attempt  was  met  by  the  furious  and  famous  diatribe 
of  Paul-Louis  Courier  against  the  law  which  proposed 
"  d'emp&her  les  paysans  de  danser  le  Dimanche,"  and 
the  prohibitory  legislation  was  abandoned. 

In  its  best  days  Vauxhall  must  have  been  a  very 
pleasant  place,  bright  with  coloured  lights  and  full  of 
gay  company  listening  to  the  music. 

Many  memories  of  the  eighteenth  century  clung  about 
the  old  gardens.  Certain  of  the  decorative  paintings 
were  by  Hogarth,  and  the  artistic  taste  of  another  age 
could  clearly  be  discerned,  though  time  and  the  weather 
had  done  their  work  in  the  way  of  spoiling  a  good  deal 
which  would  otherwise  have  been  artistic  and  interest- 
ing. To  such  an  extent  was  this  the  case,  that  when 
the  pictures  were  sold,  ridiculously  small  prices  were 
realized,  though  many  were  the  work  of  well-known 
and  highly-gifted  painters. 

In  the  palmiest  days  of  old  Vauxhall  the  maximum 
price  of  admission  was  five  shillings.  In  the  exhibition 
year,  1851,  the  entree  to  the  gardens,  the  site  of  which 
is  now  covered  by  ugly  streets,  was  half-a-crown.  A 
mass  of  varied  entertainment  was  furnished  for  that 
sum.  To  begin  with,  there  was  a  really  excellent  vocal 
and  instrumental  concert,  which  included  comic  songs. 
Other  attractions  were  a  splendid  panorama,  a  first- 


128      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

rate  ballet,  acrobatic  performances,  and  a  capital  circus. 
There  were  also  frequent  balloon  ascents  from  the 
Waterloo  Ground,  amid  "  fifty  thousand  addition  il 
lamps,"  and  a  grand  display  of  fireworks.  All  these 
and  many  more  delights  were  to  be  enjoyed  for  two- 
and-sixpence.  An  old  frequenter  declared  that  the 
contemplation  of  the  plaster  statues  in  the  Italian  walk 
were  alone  worth  the  money,  while  the  illuminated 
transparency  representing  a  famous  character  of  the 
gardens,  Mr  Simpson,  M.C.,  with  his  perennial  bow, 
his  cocked  hat,  his  opera  tights  and  pumps,  would  have 
been  cheap  at  a  crown.  The  tariff  of  refreshments 
was,  admittedly,  not  cheap;  at  the  same  time,  in  the 
crypt  behind  the  orchestra  visitors  could  obtain  a  brown 
mug  full  of  excellent  stout  for  sixpence.  A  dish  of  cold 
meat  only  cost  a  shilling ;  and  the  shilling  glass  of 
brandy-and-water  contained  at  least  half  a  quartern 
of  fortifying  spirit. 

In  its  palmy  days  Vauxhall  boasted  a  carver  reputed 
to  be  second  to  none.  It  was  said  that  so  expert  was 
he  at  cutting  ham  that  if  put  upon  his  mettle  he  could 
cut  from  one  single  ham  sufficient  slices  to  cover  the 
whole  gardens,  which  were  by  no  means  inextensive. 

Cremorne,  though  in  its  last  days  considered  almost 
as  part  of  London,  was  originally  quite  a  rural  spot.  In 
the  Royal  Blue  Book  for  1826  Chelsea  Farm  is  given 
as  the  "  country  residence "  of  Lady  Cremorne. 
Chelsea  Farm  in  course  of  time  became  Cremorne  Gardens, 
the  site  of  which  is  now  covered  by  streets. 

An  aristocratic  f£te  was  once  organized  at  Cremorne 
by  a  noble  lord  of  artistic  tastes.  The  place  was  then 
in  its  glory ;  the  gardens  were  exquisitely  pretty ;  the 
entertainment  varied,  sparkling,  and  attractive ;  and 
it  occurred  to  the  noble  lord  that  it  would  be  a  very 
nice  thing  to  charter  Mr  Simpson's  premises  for  a  single 
evening,  form  a  committee  of  ladies  patronesses,  and, 
by  the  maintenance  of  a  rigid  system  of  vouchers, 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      129 

exclude  all  but  the  "  creme  de  la  cre"me  "  of  society 
from  the  bowers,  the  buffets,  the  marionette  theatre, 
the  dancing  platform  for  that  night  only.  The  festival, 
harmless  and  even  ingenious  in  its  inception,  duly  took 
place.  The  upper  classes  came,  if  not  in  their  thousands, 
at  least  in  their  hundreds,  to  the  Chelsea  Casino.  There 
was  music ;  there  was  dancing ;  "  twenty  thousand 
additional  lamps"  shone  upon  fair  women  and  brave 
men ;  and  all  would  have  gone  merry  as  a  marriage 
bell,  only,  unfortunately,  it  poured  cats  and  dogs 
throughout  the  evening ;  and  that  which  should 
have  been  an  Almack's  in  the  open  air  was  con- 
verted into  a  Festival  of  Umbrellas  and  a  Carnival  of 
Goloshes. 

One  of  the  chief  opponents  of  Cremorne  Gardens 
was  Canon  Cromwell,  the  principal  of  St  Mark's  Training 
College,  almost  opposite.  His  Puritanical  activities 
were  unpopular,  and  a  satirical  paper  pictured  him  in 
cap  and  gown  ejecting  a  couple  of  flashily-dressed  ladies 
from  the  resort  he  wished  to  close.  The  comic  Press, 
then  far  more  outspoken  than  it  is  to-day,  made  fun 
of  petitions  organized  against  the  Gardens,  speaking 
of  them  as  being  signed  by  babies  and  children  under 
ten.  A  burlesque  set  of  "  Cremorne  Regulations " 
prohibited  fireworks,  dancing,  smoking,  laughing,  alcohol 
or  flirting.  For  a  time  the  crusade  against  Cremorne 
received  little  serious  support. 

At  the  end  of  1876,  however,  a  rhymed  pamphlet  en- 
titled "  The  Trial  of  John  Fox,"  or  "  Fox  John,"  or  the 
"  Horrors  of  Cremorne,"  attracted  some  attention.  It 
branded  the  Gardens  as  being  the  "  nursery  of  every 
kind  of  vice  "  and  its  manager,  John  Fox,  as  a  callous 
money-grubber. 

In  May  1877,  the  lessee,  John  Baum,  brought  an 
action  against  the  author,  who  was  a  Mr  Alfred  Brandon, 
a  tailor  by  trade  and  minister  of  the  Chelsea  Baptist 
Chapel. 

9 


130      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Baum  was  eventually  awarded  a  farthing  damages, 
each  side  having  to  pay  its  own  costs. 

In  the  following  October  Baum,  probably  anticipating 
a  refusal,  withdrew  his  application  for  a  renewal  of  the 
licence,  and  so  Cremorne  closed  for  ever. 

The  ground  it  occupied  was  soon  covered  with  rows 
of  small  houses,  and  its  pleasures,  as  well  as  its  moral 
shortcomings,  have  now  long  been  forgotten. 

In  the  early  'eighties  came  the  Fisheries  Exhibition, 
a  sort  of  "  moral  Cremorne,"  which  was  followed  by 
other  professedly  educational  exhibitions,  finally  ended 
by  the  erection  of  the  Natural  History  Museum  and 
other  ponderous  buildings  upon  the  ground. 

Since  then  there  have  been  semi-open  air  shows  at 
Earl's  Court  and  Shepherd's  Bush,  where  the  White 
City  is  still  in  existence. 

The  Argyll  rooms — the  last  of  a  number  of  metro- 
politan dancing  places  like  Highbury  Barn  and  the 
Holborn  Casino — was  refused  a  licence  not  very  long 
after  Cremorne. 

The  premises  were  afterwards  turned  into  the  Troca- 
dero  music-hall,  which  in  turn  gave  way  to  Messrs 
Lyons's  excellent  restaurant  of  the  same  name. 

During  the  war  the  Puritans  turned  their  attention 
to  the  promenades  and  lounges,  which,  to  their  great 
joy,  they  eventually  succeeded  in  getting  suppressed. 
In  consequence  the  music-hall,  which,  as  that  fine  writer 
and  critic,  Mr  George  Moore,  once  pointed  out,1  was 
"  wholly  and  essentially  English,"  has  in  consequence 
ceased  to  exist. 

As  he  said,  "  its  communal  enjoyment  and  its  spon- 
taneity set  us  thinking  of  Elizabethan  England ;  there 
was  real  life  in  it." 

And  now  it  has  gone,  swamped  in  the  seething  torrent 
of  slimy  hypocrisy. 

With  the  suppression  of  the  Empire  lounge,  one  of 

1  "  Confessions  of  a  Young  Man." 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      131 

the  last  features  of  the  old  pleasure-loving  London 
passed  away. 

It  is  true  that  for  some  years  it  had  ceased 
to  be  the  nightly  resort  of  men-about-town,  but  it 
was  still  a  place  where  men  from  India  and  the 
Colonies  went,  feeling  sure  that  they  would  come  across 
friends. 

In  the  'eighties  all  the  sporting  characters  in  town 
used  to  go  there — Sam  Lewis  was  always  the  centre 
of  an  animated  group. 

Then  came  the  Puritan  agitation,  which  produced 
almost  a  riot,  one  of  the  chief  leaders  of  which  was  a 
young  man  who  is  now  a  Cabinet  Minister,  and  con- 
sequently would  probably  raise  no  protest  if  music-halls 
were  closed  altogether. 

Though  the  lounge  was  eventually  reopened,  it  was 
never  the  same  as  before  ;  indeed,  in  its  latter  days, 
the  frequenters  were  mainly  of  a  different  class. 

The  contention  that  it  was  a  centre  of  vice  was 
ridiculous.  A  certain  number  of  women  certainly 
frequented  the  place,  but  they  can  be  found  anywhere 
— even  in  churches  ;  and  provided  they  behave  decently, 
which  they  always  did  at  the  Empire,  it  would  have 
been  monstrous  to  exclude  them. 

All  the  other  lounges  in  London  were  suppressed 
during  the  war,  London  thus  becoming  the  only  capital 
devoid  of  a  place  of  amusement,  where  people  are  able 
to  walk  about  and  hear  music  in  the  evenings. 

Paris,  of  course,  has  any  number  of  lounges — the 
Casino  de  Paris,  Folies  Bergeres  and  Olympia,  for 
instance — all  highly  popular  haunts  with  the  English, 
who  at  home  are  apt  to  hold  up  their  hands  in  horror 
at  the  idea  of  such  places  ! 

The  Empire  with  its  promenade,  where  one  met  people 
from  all  parts  of  the  world,  is  but  a  memory ;  the  Pavilion 
— affectionately  known  to  pleasure-seekers  of  a  past 
generation  as  "  the  Pav  " — is  intermittently  a  theatre 


132      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

or  a  cinematograph  show ;  while  the  Oxford,  as  a  music- 
hall,  has  ceased  to  exist. 

All  this  closing  up  of  lounges  has  been  carried  out 
as  part  of  the  Puritan  policy  of  hounding  wretched 
women  into  the  street. 

In  the  old  resorts  now  condemned  as  having  been 
vulgar  and  undesirable,  young  men  were  able  to  have 
something  of  a  fling,  much  being  openly  tolerated  which 
is  now  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  crime. 

^The  result  of  driving  vice  underground  is  merely 
that  worse  extravagances  are  carried  on  in  secret,  for 
youth  can  be  no  more  prevented  from  yielding  to  its 
imperious  appetite  for  unrestrained  pleasure  than  a 
consumptive  from  coughing. 

The  earlier  closing  of  restaurants,  the  suppression  of 
music-hall  lounges  and  late  night  clubs,  have  not  made 
London  more  moral  than  in  the  past ;  what  they  have 
done  is  to  make  the  West  End  less  human  and  less 
amusing.  One  must,  however,  remember  that  the  vast 
majority  of  social  reformers  are  dull  dogs,  and  in  this 
direction,  at  least,  they  have  good  reason  to  pride  them- 
selves upon  their  success. 

But  in  reality  it  is  in  that  direction  only.  Utopian 
ideas  are  all  very  well  in  theory,  but  getting  them  carried, 
out  is  quite  another  matter.  Puritans  invariably  forget 
the  old  proverb  about  taking  a  horse  to  the  water — 
which,  by  the  way,  is  what  a  number  of  these  want 
to  be  our  only  drink. 

During  the  last  thirty  or  forty  years  the  character 
of  music-hall  entertainments  has  entirely  changed. 

Forty  years  ago  the  London  world  of  amusement  was 
infinitely  smaller  than  it  is  to-day.  A  large  portion  of 
the  middle  classes  never  entered  theatres  or  music- 
halls,  the  majority  on  account  of  what  they  believed 
to  be  religion,  the  remainder  because  they  had  not  been 
brought  up  in  the  habit  of  going. 

The  proletariat,  on  the  other  hand,  were  keen  patrons 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      133 

of  the  drama,  and  looked  upon  the  gallery  as  their  own 
part  of  the  house.  They  did  not  fail  to  manifest  their 
disapproval  of  pieces  which  seemed  to  them  bad,  while 
prodigal  of  applause  to  their  favourites.  On  the  whole 
their  judgment  was  fairly  good. 

The  aristocracy  were  then,  as  they  have  always  been, 
fond  of  amusements,  and  went  a  good  deal  to  the 
theatres.  At  that  time,  however,  except  by  way  of  an 
escapade,  ladies  did  not  go  to  music-halls,  about  which 
hung  a  glamour  of  impropriety. 

Gradually,  however,  they  contrived  to  get  their  men 
folk  to  take  them  there,  with  the  result  that  the  old- 
fashioned  and  rather  Rabelaisian  songs  gave  way  to 
what  the  Press  called  a  more  refined  form  of  enter- 
tainment. 

This  incursion  of  respectable  females  into  a  sphere 
which  had  formerly  been  considered  the  particular 
hunting-ground  of  nocturnal  revellers  was  really  the 
commencement  of  the  curious  state  of  affairs  which 
prevails  to-day  when  what  considers  itself  to  represent 
Society  cheerfully  rubs  shoulders  with  all  sorts  of 
queer  company — young  married  women  and  unmarried 
maidens  cheerfully  footing  it  at  fancy  balls  and  night 
clubs  cheek  by  jowl  with  actresses,  cocottes,  money- 
lenders, bookmakers,  et  hoc  genus  omne — the  cocottes, 
oddly  enough,  often  looking  far  the  most  respectable 
of  the  lot. 

At  one  time,  for  some  reason  or  other,  it  was  supposed 
that  music-halls  would  have  an  educational  effect  upon 
their  patrons. 

A  critic  speaking  of  the  London  music-halls  in  the 
'sixties  said,  we  were  told,  when  the  idea  came  first  into 
notice,  that  its  encouragement  would  assuredly  exer- 
cise a  beneficial  influence  over  the  progress  of  music 
amongst  the  lower  classes ;  that  many  people  who 
now  spend  the  hours  of  the  night  in  dissolute  indulgence 
at  the  public-house,  would,  in  time,  be  weaned  from 


134      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

their  evil  doings,  and  that  the  souls  of  our  less  wealthy 
fellow-creatures  would,  in  general  terms,  be  ennobled 
through  the  gentle  agency  of  art !  In  fact,  we  were 
told  all  sorts  of  things,  which,  perhaps,  we  did  not 
believe,  and  which  have,  at  all  events,  been  proved 
by  time  to  be  not  less  fallacious  than  the  great  majority 
of  predictions. 

The  music-halls  were  never  educational ;  but  before 
the  entertainment  provided  in  them  had  been  levelled 
up,  or  rather  down,  to  suit  the  susceptibilities  of  the 
suburban  mind,  it  was  at  least  the  frank  expression  of 
a  certain  side  of  English  life,  and,  as  such,  more 
artistic  than  some  of  the  puerile  inanities  which  took 
its  place. 

The  music-hall,  of  course,  had  its  origin  in  sing-songs 
organized  in  public-houses  and  had  nothing  in  common 
with  the  modern  Palace  of  Varieties. 

The  early  music-halls  were  not  luxurious  nor  refined, 
while  the  songs  were  of  a  full-blooded  order  which  would 
probably  cause  an  outcry  at  the  present  day.  The  wit 
not  infrequently  was  akin  to  that  provided  at  the  Cider 
cellars  or  at  Baron  Nicholson's  burlesque  trials,  which 
were  notoriously  very  Rabelaisian. 

The  Lion  comiques  of  that  day  were  particularly 
fond  of  singing  about  the  St  John's  Wood—  the  Grove 
of  the  Evangelists,  as  they  called  it. 

"  I  know  a  Bank— South  Bank 
In  a  wood — St  John's  Wood, 
She  lives  with  her  darling  Mamma. 
Come  and  dine,  have  some  wine 
At  a  quarter-past  nine. 
Till  then,  naughty  boy,  Tra-la-la ;  " 

sung  by  the  "  Great  Vance,"  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the 
doggerel  ladled  out   to  music-hall   audiences    to   their 
apparent  delight. 
As  late  as  the  'eighties  and  early  'nineties  St  John's 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      135 

Wood,  which  is  now  a  district  of  the  highest  respect- 
ability, had  a  good  many  queer  residents. 

The  "  Wood  "  sheltered  many  ultra-Bohemians,  most 
of  whom  were  ladies  who  were  by  way  of  being  attractive, 
but  who  very  often  weren't. 

Lively  scenes  took  place  in  some  of  the  little  houses 
which  now  look  so  demure  and  prim.  Here  in  long 
past  days  men  have  been  known  to  fight  their  way 
out  of  tough  corners,  poker  in  hand. 

Young  fellows  about  town  had  no  illusions  as  to  the 
dangers  which  might  await  them  in  that  part  of  London, 
but  the  spirit  of  adventure  is  often  strong  in  youth,  and 
the  hazards  connected  with  a  drive  in  pleasant  company 
to  North  or  South  Bank  had  little  deterrent  effect. 

Very  popular  were  songs  dealing  with  London  types 
such  as  the  hansom  cabby,  of  whom  Arthur  Roberts 
gave  such  an  amusing  and  excellent  impersonation  in 
"  Gentleman  Joe.  " 

"  I  say,  cabby  (sang  another  bard)  I  want  to  know  the  fare 
To  drive  a  girl  along  with  an  Earl 
From  here  to  Leicester  Square ;  " 

and  so  on  and  so  on. 

Cabby  belongs  only  to  the  past,  as  does  any  induce- 
ment to  drive  a  girl  to  Leicester  Square,  the  supper 
resorts  of  which,  thanks  to  the  triumph  of  Puritanism, 
no  longer  exist. 

Songs  then  were  far  more  topical  than  is  the  case 
to-day,  dealing  as  they  did  with  some  cause  celebre 
or  public  scandal.  "  Charlie  Dilke,"  set  to  an  admirable 
tune,  was  a  conspicuous  instance. 

Another  ditty  sung  by  the  same  singer — Macdermott 
— dealt  with  the  disreputable  crowd  of  rooks  who  lay 
in  wait  for  pigeons  at  certain  bars  round  Piccadilly 
Circus. 

This,  called  "  Captain  Criterion  of  London,"  ex- 
cited great  indignation  among  certain  flashily-dressed 


136      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

sporting  men.  The  latter,  who  took  certain  criticisms 
as  being  levelled  at  themselves,  were  indeed  said  to 
have  frightened  Macdermott  or  the  management  of  the 
London  Pavilion  into  withdrawing  the  song  from  the 
programme ;  in  any  case  it  was  sung  for  but  a  short  time. 
Gradually  the  music-hall,  while  retaining  most  of  its 
original  character,  became  less  of  the  free  and  easy 
from  which  it  sprang  and  more  of  a  regularly  conducted 
entertainment.  Songs  sung  there,  such  as  "  Champagne 
Charlie,"  were  heard  all  over  the  town.  In  the  end, 
ladies  wanted  to  go  and  hear  them,  and,  of  course,  as 
always  happens,  eventually  had  their  way,  though  for 
years  it  must  be  understood  such  visits  were  in  the 
nature  of  a  secret  adventure. 

When,  however,  "  Plevna  "  was  played  at  the  Can- 
terbury, in  the  late  'seventies,  many  people  from  the 
West  End  went  to  see  it ;  and  though  the  old  school 
discouraged  it  as  much  as  they  could,  before  very  many 
years  were  over  the  boxes  of  the  now  remodelled  halls 
were  quite  often  frequented  by  women  as  well  as  men 
of  the  fashionable  world. 

The  institution  of  the  variety  theatres  naturally  gave 
a  great  impetus  to  this  fashion,  but  in  the  meantime 
the  original  music-hall  entertainment  was  being  gradu- 
ally pushed  out  of  existence,  except  at  some  of  the  minor 
halls  which  still  retained  a  chairman. 

In  the  'sixties  and  'seventies,  the  Alhambra,  with 
its  well-mounted  ballets  and  capital  scenery,  was  a 
very  popular  resort ;  the  music  rooms  known  as  Evans's, 
in  Co  vent  Garden,  was  another.  In  the  latter  case 
the  audience  consisted  of  men  alone,  and  the  entertain- 
ment was  made  up  of  songs,  glees,  and  part  songs, 
executed  by  a  well-trained  choir  composed  of  boys 
with  fresh  and  lusty  voices.  At  Evans's  the  visitor 
was  bound  to  hear  good  music  well  executed.  The 
establishment  was  admirably  conducted,  and  it  is  a 
pity  that  it  was  ever  closed. 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON      137 

When  the  licensing  of  music-halls  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  Middlesex  magistrates  the  latter  were  constantly 
being  attacked  as  a  lot  of  Puritanical  old  fogies,  for 
which  reason  the  transference  of  certain  of  their  powers 
to  the  County  Council  was  hailed  with  approval,  a 
number  of  people  being  under  the  mistaken  impression 
that  the  new  licensing  authority  would  be  more  tolerant 
in  its  policy. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  as  all  who  understood  the 
workings  of  the  civic  mind  expected,  the  very  opposite 
was  the  case,  the  activities  of  a  certain  section  of  the 
Council  being  immediately  directed  towards  the  morals 
of  the  female  frequenters  of  various  Music  Hall  pro- 
menades, and  similar  questions  capable  of  arousing 
pornographic  discussions  dear  to  professional  supervisors 
of  other  people's  morals.  The  inner  history  of  the 
"  Zaeo  "  episode  in  the  'eighties  was  a  fine  example  of 
Puritan  gullibility. 

The  engagement  of  "  Zaeo,"  a  famous  acrobat  of 
that  day,  then  at  the  Aquarium,  was  coming  to  an  end 
with  small  prospect  of  renewal,  public  interest  in 
her  clever  and  daring  feats  having  somewhat  declined, 
when  one  of  the  ladies'  entourage,  who  combined  a  keen 
sense  of  humour  with  considerable  business  capacity, 
set  to  work  to  boom  her  performance.  In  the  first 
place  he  designed  a  poster  which  though  perfectly  proper 
showed  "  Zaeo  "  in  tights.  This  was  put  up  all  over 
London. 

He  then  arranged  for  letters  to  be  written  to  the 
Vigilance  Society  protesting  against  the  poster  as  being 
indecent. 

The  Society  took  the  matter  up,  and  an  application 
was  made  to  Sir  John  Bridge,  at  Bow  Street,  with  the 
result  that  after  some  proceedings  it  was  arranged  that 
the  poster  should  be  modified. 

The  next  day  every  one  had  a  large  piece  of  white 
paper  pasted  over  the  legs. 


138      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

The  case,  of  course,  was  fully  reported  in  the  Press 
and  created  a  sensation,  with  the  result  that  the  Aquarium 
was  thronged.  The  clever  advertiser,  however,  did  not 
stop  here.  When  the  Aquarium's  licence  was  applied 
for  he  contrived  to  have  it  opposed  on  the  grounds 
that  owing  to  lack  of  clothing  "  Zaeo's "  back  was 
lacerated  by  the  fall  into  the  net  which  part  of  her 
performance  entailed.  Several  County  Councillors  took 
the  matter  up  very  seriously,  and  one  even  proposed 
to  examine  the  lady's  back.  The  result  of  all  this 
was,  of  course,  more  newspaper  advertisement  and 
larger  audiences  than  ever.  This  was  probably  one  of 
the  few  instances  in  which  over-zealous  Puritanism 
ever  did  anyone  any  good. 

For  a  good  many  years  after  all  this,  people  flocked 
to  the  Aquarium,  where,  in  addition  to  the  denizens 
of  the  deep,  there  was  generally  some  extraordinarily 
daring  acrobatic  feat  to  be  seen.  Quite  as  sensational 
as  "  Zaeo's  "  was  the  performance  of  "  Zazel,"  a  graceful 
acrobat,  who  was  fired  out  of  a  cannon  and  caught  a 
trapeze  at  the  end  of  her  flight.  In  reality  the  mode 
of  propulsion  was  a  strong  spring,  though  the  illusion 
of  a  real  cannon  being  fired  was  produced  by  the  volumes 
of  smoke  which  surged  from  the  cannon's  mouth  as 
the  performer  flew  through  the  air.  Zazel  was  pre- 
sented to  the  public  by  Mr  Farini,  an  unrivalled  purveyor 
of  wonders. 

An  outcry  on  the  score  of  danger  arose  about  this 
turn,  and  the  Home  Secretary  was  said  to  have  been 
about  to  interfere,  whereupon  Mr  Farini  (so  ran  the 
story)  completely  set  the  public  mind  at  rest  by  pro- 
posing to  demonstrate  the  safety  of  the  performance 
by  shooting  the  minister  himself  out  of  the  cannon, 
not  once  only,  but  as  many  times  as  he  might  like, 
while  guaranteeing  his  safety.  The  offer  was  not  ac- 
cepted, but  talk  of  interference  ceased. 

The   Aquarium   was   always   the   source   of   anxiety 


THE  NIGHT  LIFE  OF  LONDON       139 

to  prudes  on  the  prowl,  who  at  licensing  time  tried  to 
make  out  that  it  was  a  source  of  demoralization  and 
fount  of  iniquity. 

When  allegations  were  made  that  it  was  frequented  by 
undesirable  women,  the  management,  of  course,  replied 
that  the  moral  standard  of  female  visitors  was  practi- 
cally that  of  vestal  virgins. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  poor,  gloomy  old  place  where 
the  public  were  promised  twelve  hours  of  uninterrupted 
enjoyment  was  in  its  last  days  one  of  the  horrors  of 
London. 

With  its  dingy  interior  and  derelict  tanks,  in  one  of 
the  last  of  which  survived  a  melancholy  crocodile,  any 
more  depressing  resort  was  not  to  be  imagined. 

Its  site  is  now,  not  so  inappropriately,  perhaps,  covered 
by  a  Wesleyan  hall. 


VIII 
BOHEMIAN  DAYS 

WHILE  Mayfair  has  possibly  not  always  been 
immaculate  from  a  moral  point  of  view,  its 
vices  have  never  been  such  as  to  produce 
disorder  or  serious  scandal. 

A  number  of  the  smallest  houses  in  its  retired  streets 
have  from  time  to  time  sheltered  queer,  if  attractive, 
tenants,  but  from  the  point  of  view  of  decorum  the 
latter  have  generally  given  no  more  cause  for  complaint 
than  the  most  rigorous  of  their  neighbours. 

At  one  time  there  was  a  regular  London  demi-monde. 
Skittles,  Mabel  Grey,  and  other  anonymas  were  well- 
known  figures  in  the  Park,  which  they  usually  frequented 
in  discreet-looking  little  broughams. 

In  the  'sixties  quite  a  number  of  these  ladies,  priding 
themselves  upon  their  horsemanship,  \vere  to  be  seen 
in  the  Row.  They  took  care,  however,  not  to  go  there 
at  the  fashionable  hour,  which  was  in  the  afternoon. 

Many  sporting  characters  have  lived  in  Mayfair,  notably 
the  late  Mr  "  Abington "  Baird,  who,  one  evening, 
having  dined  particularly  well  in  a  luxuriously-furnished 
little  house  in  Curzon  Street  belonging  to  a  sporting 
baronet,  bought  it  straight  away — lock,  stock  and  barrel, 
just  as  it  stood. 

The  proprietor  walked  out  and  Mr  Baird  went  to  bed 
in  the  house  late  that  very  night.  Waking  up  in  the 
morning,  he  was  rather  dazed  by  finding  himself  in  a 
strange  bedroom. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  he  asked  of  one  of  his  sporting 
associates  who  chanced  to  drop  in. 

140 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  141 

"  You're  at  home,  Squire,"  was  the  reply,  which 
considerably  astonished  Mr  Baird,  who  had  but  a  hazy 
recollection  of  what  had  happened  the  night  before. 

It  was  while  at  this  house  that  this  eccentric  character 
organized  a  contest  between  a  number  of  piano  organs, 
which,  to  the  astonishment  of  their  grinders  and  dismay 
of  the  neighbours,  was  decided  in  the  drawing-room. 

Such  freaks  as  this  have  never  been  popular  in 
the  West  End. 

There  has  always  been  a  certain  amount  of  gambling 
in  Mayf air ;  some  of  the  most  decorous-looking  mansions 
could  tell  queer  tales. 

The  high  play  which  took  place  within  their  walls 
has  been  known  to  go  on  without  the  consent  or  even 
the  knowledge  of  the  owners. 

This  was  especially  the  case  just  before  the  Great 
War,  when  it  became  the  practice  of  certain  sporting 
individuals,  appreciative  of  the  financial  benefits  of  the 
cagnotte,  to  pay  a  big  rent  for  six  months  in  order  to  be 
able  to  entertain  a  select  clientele  fond  of  baccarat. 

As  the  houses  were  generally  obtained  through  a  third 
party  the  real  object  for  which  they  were  wanted  as 
a  rule  escaped  notice  till  rumours  of  what  was  going 
on  reached  the  ears  of  some  scandalized  landlord, 
who  immediately  proceeded  to  get  rid  of  his  undesir- 
able tenant. 

Large  sums  were  lost  in  these  places,  which  were 
most  luxuriously  conducted,  supper,  wines  and  cigars, 
all  of  the  most  excellent  kind,  being  provided  free. 

In  connection  with  this  method  of  hiring  houses 
amusing  incidents  sometimes  occurred. 

The  owner  of  a  fine  house  in  the  West  End  having, 
as  he  thought,  let  it  extremely  well  for  six  months, 
betook  himself  and  his  wife  to  Paris.  He  was  a  serious 
individual,  rather  pompous  in  manner. 

A  week  later,  walking  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  he  was- 
suddenly  slapped  on  the  back  by  a  young  fellow  of 


142      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

his  acquaintance  well  known  for  his  addiction  to  the 
Turf. 

"  Well,  old  boy,"  said  the  latter,  "  my  congratulations 
on  your  good  week — your  share  of  the  Kitty  (cagnotte) 
can't  have  been  less  than  a  couple  of  thou  !  However, 
I  came  off  all  right.  I  won  a  monkey." 

"  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean,"  was  the 
reply. 

"As  if  you  didn't  jolly  well  know !  " 

Eventually,  much  to  his  horror,  the  owner  of  the 
mansion,  which  had  let  so  well,  discovered  that  chemin  de 
jer  baccarat  was  being  played  in  his  drawing-room,  while 
an  elaborate  and  excellent  'supper  was  provided  for 
players  on  his  dining  table,  around  which  some  of  the 
most  serious  personages  in  the  Metropolis  were  wont 
to  assemble. 

"  Your  little  library  makes  a  capital  place  for  hats 
and  coats,"  was  the  final  remark  of  the  informant,  who 
delighted  in  the  consternation  he  was  creating. 

Returning  to  London  the  next  day  the  scandalized 
owner  of  the  house  confronted  his  tenant,  and  told 
him  he  must  leave. 

The  latter,  however,  showed  a  bold  front,  declaring 
that  the  card-playing  had  been  greatly  exaggerated — 
merely  a  little  Bridge  among  friends.  Finally  he 
declared  his  intention  of  carrying  the  matter  into  court, 
adding  that,  if  gambling  should  be  proved,  a  jury  would 
draw  their  own  conclusions  as  to  the  ignorance  of  a 
landlord  who  had  exacted  suc^j  an  exorbitant  rent. 

In  the  end  the  latter,  fearful  of  further  scandal, 
actually  had  to  buy  his  tenant  out. 

These  gaming  places,  to  do  those  who  ran  them  justice, 
were  orderly  and  well  conducted.  Neither  women  or 
young  men  were  admitted,  the  majority  of  the  players 
being  men-about-town,  well  used  to  gambling  on  the  turf 
and  at  foreign  casinos. 

A  sprinkling  of  legislators  drawn  from  both  sides  of 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  143 

the  House  usually  gave  timid  frequenters  a  comfortable 
if  fallacious  feeling  of  security  from  outside  interference. 

The  profits  of  the  proprietors,  after  the  fashion 
followed  at  French  watering-places,  were  drawn  from 
the  percentage  levied  on  the  banks. 

Very  large  sums  were  made  in  this  way  by  certain 
individuals — one  indeed  certainly  made  £80,000,  most 
of  which,  it  may  be  added,  he  afterwards  lost  on 
the  Turf. 

Though  a  few  minor  gaming  places  were  raided  the 
best  of  them  (if  such  a  term  is  admissible)  escaped  inter- 
ference. This  implies  no  slackness  on  the  part  of  the 
authorities.  There  was  no  scandal ;  and  the  sojourn 
of  a  gaming  house  keeper  in  any  particular  place  was 
so  short,  that  by  the  time  his  business  had  attracted 
attention  the  bird  had  flown. 

The  war  practically  ended  all  this  sort  of  thing  in 
the  West  End,  where  no  one  now  has  money  to  lose. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  baccarat  played  in  London 
in  the  'eighties.  The  Park  and  Field  Clubs  existed 
solely  in  order  to  afford  men-about-town  facilities  for 
playing  that  game. 

There  were  also  instances  of  baccarat  being  played 
in  one  or  two  old-established  and  highly  respectable 
clubs. 

This  in  one  or  two  cases  led  to  scandals  and  eventu- 
ally severe  action  was  taken,  which  has  prevented  any- 
thing of  the  sort  happening  since. 

Private  gaming  parties  have,  of  course,  always  been 
intermittent  features  of  West  End  life,  and  at  various 
times  jokes  have  been  played  on  these  giving  them. 
In  one  case  three  or  four  intimate  men  friends  of  a  lady 
who  was  in  the  habit  of  having  baccarat  parties  at  her 
house,  having  dressed  themselves  up  as  police  officers, 
one  evening  proceeded  to  knock  loudly  at  the  door, 
and,  on  admission,  walked  up  to  the  room  where  they 
knew  gambling  was  going  on.  Their  entrance  was  the 


144      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

signal  for  a  general  stampede  for  the  door,  which  was 
only  checked  when  the  raid  was  found  to  be  but  a  joke. 

At  one  time  men  who  wanted  a  gamble  used  to  take 
a  sitting-room  for  the  night  at  one  of  the  old-fashioned 
hotels,  where  they  knew  they  would  be  allowed  to  do 
as  they  liked. 

The  old  sporting  hotels  of  the  West  End  were  real 
survivals  of  another  age,  linking,  as  they  did,  the  life 
of  men-about-town  with  that  led  by  their  predecessors 
in  the  eighteenth  century. 

Before  their  final  extinction  these  old  hostelries  were 
practically  without  exception  rebuilt. 

Long's  Hotel  in  Bond  Street,  which  closed  its  doors 
some  years  ago,  was,  before  it  had  been  rebuilt,  a  great 
resort  of  men-about-town  in  the  mornings  and  after- 
noons, who  would  have  drinks  there,  and  exchange  the 
talk  of  the  town.  There  was  a  billiard-room  upstairs, 
and  the  accommodation  was  comfortable  if  old-fashioned. 

William,  the  old  head  waiter,  was  a  well-known  char- 
acter at  Long's,  ever  ready  with  racing  tips  which  did 
the  poor  man  himself  even  more  harm  than  those  who 
received  them.  Indeed  this  most  gentle,  civil  and  efficient 
representative  of  a  class  which  is  now  extinct  was  not 
prosperous  in  his  last  years. 

At  Long's  were  to  be  had  the  best  grilled  soles  and 
best  whiskies-and-sodas  in  London.  Everything,  however, 
was  pretty  good  at  this  hostelry,  which  was  the  last 
of  a  number  of  its  kind  which  once  flourished  in  the  West 
End  of  London. 

Long's  Hotel  outlived  its  rivals,  but  at  the  end  of  its 
existence  had  entirely  changed  its  character. 

It  was  at  Long's  Hotel  that  the  ill-fated  Ernest 
Benzon — the  Jubilee  Juggins,  as  he  was  called — first 
burst  upon  the  West  End,  and  here  a  few  years  later 
he  lost  £10,000  in  one  evening  at  billiards. 

The  smoking-room,  where  poor  Benzon  used  to  hold 
forth  as  to  his  extravagances  past  and  to  come,  served 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  145 

more  or  less  as  a  sort  of  club  to  a  number  of  sportsmen, 
some  of  whom  were  unlikely  to  get  into  any  other. 

The  spirit  of  life  then  still  lingered  about  the  old 
hostelry,  but  a  few  years  later,  when  the  place  became 
more  of  a  family  hotel,  it  of  course  entirely  disappeared. 

Not  far  away,  in  Cork  Street,  formerly  flourished  the 
old-established  tavern  of  the  sign  of  the  "  Blue  Posts," 
a  sporting  resort  which  was  long  famous  for  its  dinners, 
chops  and  punch.  It  was  also  at  one  time  popular 
with  literary  men,  having  been  a  favourite  haunt  of  the 
publisher  Blackwood,  the  famous  "  Ebony,"  where  he 
saw  the  London  contributors  to  "  Maga." 

A  good  old-fashioned  English  dinner  could  still  be 
procured  at  the  "  Blue  Posts  "  in  the  'eighties  of  the 
last  century,  but  its  popularity  was  eclipsed  by  the 
palatial  new  restaurants  which  began  to  be  erected 
shortly  after  that  date. 

At  No.  15  lived  the  philanthropist  George  Peabody, 
and  at  No.  17  Sam  Lewis — also  a  philanthropist  in  his 
own  particular  way. 

Few  knew  as  much  about  the  financial  secrets  of 
Mayfair  as  the  little  Cork  Street  moneylender,  who  was 
to  be  seen  standing  in  his  bow  window  looking  at  his 
fashionable  clients  going  to  lunch  opposite  at  the  Bristol, 
then  the  most  popular  restaurant  in  the  West  End. 

People  wondered  why,  wealthy  as  he  was,  he  continued 
to  carry  on  his  business.  "  Why  don't  you  give  up 
the  moneylending  business,  now  that  you  have  made  so 
much  money  ?  "  someone  asked  him.  "  I'm  Sam  Lewis," 
said  he,  "  the  money-lender,  and  if  I  were  to  become 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  I  should  be  Sam  the  money- 
lender still." 

A  favourite  maxim  of  his,  belief  in  which  no  doubt 
contributed  to  his  success,  was,  "  Lend  to  the  rich  and 
not  to  the  poor." 

Sam  Lewis,  though  he  could  be  hard  enough  in  the 
exercise  of  his  trade,  must  have  been  at  heart  kind. 
10 


146      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

The  day  before  his  death,  it  is  said,  having  realized 
that  his  end  was  near,  he  sent  for  his  book  of  debtors, 
and  drew  a  feeble  pen  through  several  names  against 
which  large  sums  were  inscribed. 

The  chill  from  which  he  died,  it  may  be  added,  was 
contracted  while  witnessing  the  funeral  procession  of 
Oueen  Victoria. 

"  Dreadful  times,"  said  an  impecunious  man-about  - 
town.  "The  poor  old  Queen  dies  one  week  and  Sam 
dies  the  next !  " 

It  may  be  added  that  the  great  fortune,  which  has 
now  almost  gone  to  charities,  was  not  by  any  means 
all  made  through  moneylending.  He  was  an  astute 
speculator,  and  bought  largely  and  well  in  the  early 
days  of  the  South  African  boom  ;  in  many  other  direc- 
tions also  he  had  irons  in  the  fire,  a  number  of  which 
proved  very  profitable. 

When  all  is  said  and  done,  it  is  odd  to  reflect  that 
scarcely  anyone  has  ever  left  such  munificent  bequests 
for  philanthropic  purposes  as  the  usurer  Sam  Lewis, 
or  the  courtezan  Gaby  Delys. 

Limmer's  Hotel,  George  Street,  Hanover  Square, 
which  had  been  highly  popular  in  its  day,  like  other 
old  hostelries,  lost  much  of  its  vogue  with  the  sporting 
world  after  it  had  been  rebuilt ;  however,  it  continued 
to  enjoy  some  popularity  for  some  time  after  Hatchett's, 
in  Piccadilly,  had  ceased  to  exist. 

The  latter,  which  in  its  original  state  had  been 
much  patronized  by  country  gentlemen,  in  its  last 
years  came  to  be  identified  with  coaching — it  was  from 
the  White  Horse  Cellars  that  in  the  'eighties  Jim  Selby 
started  on  his  famous  drive  to  Brighton  and  back 
against  time. 

At  Limmer's,  racing  men  were  wont  to  meet,  and 
here  in  the  'sixties  many  a  coup  was  discussed.  It  was 
an  era  when  racing  was  taken  quite  seriously,  even  by 
politicians. 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  147 

Writing  in  1867  a  critic  said  :  "  The  Turf  is  evidently 
recognized  now  as  a  regular  profession,  the  duties  of 
which  must  take  precedence  of  any  other  public  duties. 
The  House  of  Commons,  as  we  know,  always  adjourns 
over  the  Derby  day ;  but  we  did  not  know  that 
attendance  at  Newmarket  was  to  be  held  a  sufficient 
reason  for  the  non-attendance  of  a  prosecutor  in  a 
case  of  felony,  even  when  all  the  witnesses  on  both 
sides  were  ready  to  appear.  But  it  seems  it  is  so,  for 
last  week  the  trial  of  a  man  accused  of  stealing  the 
Marquis  of  Hastings'  jewels  was  postponed  because 
the  noble  Marquis  and  Marchioness  were  detained  by 
important  business  —  nothing  more  or  less  than  the 
Caesarewitch.  Supposing  the  prisoner  should  ultimately 
be  acquitted,  we  wonder  whether  the  action  will  lie 
against  the  prosecutor  for  frivolous  imprisonment.  Such 
an  action  would  hardly  lie,  since  it  would  be  too  near 
the  truth." 

Racing  has  been  responsible  for  the  financial  downfall 
of  a  large  number  of  wealthy  families. 

Why  a  young  man  just  come  into  a  large  fortune 
should  imagine  that  he  is  able  to  increase  it  out  of  the 
pockets  of  the  Ring,  is  a  mystery  the  only  solution  of 
which  is  to  be  found  in  the  unlimited  extent  of  human 
folly,  which  can  no  more  be  calculated  than  the  sands 
of  the  sea. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  learn  how  many  great 
estates  have  passed  out  of  their  original  owners'  hands 
owing  to  the  latters'  love  of  racing. 

At  the  present  day,  young  men  seem  to  be  a  shade 
wiser  than  they  were.  The  most  glaring  instances  of 
folly  were  possibly  perpetrated  by  the  aristocrats 
associated  with  the  late  King  Edward  when  he  was  a 
young  man. 

Though  the  then  Prince  of  Wales  never  encouraged 
Tiis  companions  to  ruin  themselves,  some  of  them  un- 
doubtedly did  so. 


148      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

1880  was  the  year  in  which  the  famous  "  Bend  Or  " 
won  the  Derby  for  the  Duke  of  Westminster. 

From  a  pecuniary  point  of  view  this  victory  was 
scarcely  a  triumph.  The  gain  of  six  or  seven  thousand 
pounds  was  but  a  mere  bagatelle  for  the  owner  of  Bel- 
gravia,  who  had  been  expending  huge  sums  on  the 
Turf  for  several  years. 

Those  in  a  position  to  know,  computed  that  his  stud 
had  cost  him  on  an  average  thirty  thousand  a  year 
since  he  first  began  breeding  and  racing  by  giving 
£15,000  for  "  Doncaster "  and  £5000  for  a  yearling 
which,  proving  an  entire  failure,  the  Duke  sold  for  only 
410  guineas. 

A  great  sensation  was  created  after  this  Derby  by 
an  objection  to  "  Bend  Or  "  on  the  score  of  identity ; 
this,  of  course,  came  to  nothing. 

The  owner  of  this  good  horse  had  high  hopes  of  a 
victory  in  the  Leger,  but  the  fates  willed  it  otherwise, 
for  the  race  went  to  "  Robert  the  Devil,"  the  winner 
of  that  year's  Grand  Prix. 

He  subsequently  beat  "  Bend  Or  "  twice  at  Newmarket, 
and  with  what  many  deemed  to  be  an  impossible  weight, 
won  the  Czarevitch. 

His  owners  were  said  to  have  netted  nearly  £80,000 
by  this  victory. 

Among  the  mid-Victorian  amusements  of  London 
were  racecourses  practically  within  a  cab-fare  of  the 
Metropolis. 

These  suburban  meetings  were  frequented  by  a  good 
deal  of  riff-raff.  Welshing  was  not  uncommon,  though 
many  a  "  speculator  "  was  severely  handled,  for  a  number 
of  his  clients  were  thieves  and  blacklegs  themselves  ; 
the  "  rough "  element  predominated,  relieved  by  a 
slight  dash  of  the  swell  mob,  added  to  a  gentle  sprink- 
ling of  the  dishonest  shop-boy  !  A  clear  case  of  the  pot 
and  the  kettle,  the  vulture  and  the  carrion  crow  ! 

Streatham  races  were  abolished  owing  to  the  objection 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  149 

of  residents,  who  did  not  appreciate  some  of  the  company 
which  racing  brought  into  a  very  respectable  locality. 

Kingsbury  lasted  longer.  The  races  used  to  be  run 
on  land  attached  to  the  still  existing  Welsh  Harp, 
which,  even  forty  years  ago,  stood  among  quite  rural 
surroundings. 

West  Drayton  was  another  of  these  suburban  race- 
courses which,  like  the  rest,  attracted  much  riff-raff. 

Card-sharpers  abounded  in  the  trains  going  there. 
They  were  often  impudent  beyond  belief. 

One  of  these  gentry,  being  detected  cheating  by  a 
young  pigeon  with  whom  he  was  playing,  showed 
extraordinary  aplomb. 

"  I  saw  you  deal  from  the  bottom  of  the  pack,"  pro- 
tested the  young  man. 

"  And  why  the  devil  shouldn't  I,  considering  how 
unlucky  I've  been  dealing  from  the  top  ?  "  was  the 
reply. 

Bromley  steeplechases  evoked  protests  from  the  Press, 
owing  to  the  accidents  which  occurred  there.  The  pro- 
moter of  the  meeting  had  consulted  the  public  taste, 
and  gave  his  patrons  plenty  of  fun  for  their  money. 
Break-neck  leaps  and  dangerous  ditches  were  the  order 
of  the  day. 

Croydon  survived  longest,  and  in  its  day  was  quite 
popular  ;  especially  during  the  steeplechase  season  many 
good  horses  ran  there.  The  growth  of  London,  however, 
made  the  continuance  of  open  suburban  racing  im- 
possible, and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  place  of  these 
defunct  courses  has  been  amply  filled  by  Sandown, 
Kempton  and  Hurst  Park. 

The  Derby,  to  attend  which  Parliament  then  adjourned, 
was  more  of  a  general  festival  than  it  is  to-day,  whilst 
on  the  road  to  Epsom  unrestrained  gaiety,  often  de- 
generating into  rowdiness,  was  the  rule  rather  than 
the  exception. 

An  annual  Victorian  joke  related  to  the  stratagems 


150      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

employed  by  clerks  and  others  in  order  to  see  the  great 
race. 

They  were  usually  much  as  follows  : — 

Mr  Jones  (a  clerk)  to  Mr  Sloman  (his  employer) :  "I 
am  afraid,  sir,  that  I  must  ask  you  to  allow  me  a  couple 
of  days'  leave  of  absence,  as  I  am  obliged  to  go  out  of 
town,  to  attend  the  burial  of  an  aunt  of  mine." 

Mr  Sloman :  "  How  many  days  of  leave  have  you 
still  remaining,  Mr  Jones  ?  " 

Mr  Jones :  "  Well,  sir,  the  fact  is,  I  have  exhausted 
all  my  holidays,  but,  under  the  circumstances  of  the 
case,  I  venture  to  hope  that  you  may  not  be  indisposed 
to  accord  me  two  days  of  special  leave." 

Mr  Sloman  (after  a  pause)  :  "  Very  good,  Mr  Jones. 
I  shall  not  oppose  any  obstacle  to  your  desire  of  attending 
the  funeral  of  your  aunt.  I  may  mention,  however, 
that  it  would  have  been  more  satisfactory  had  it  been 
a  closer  relative." 

The  old-time  suburban  turfite  was  often  a  shifty- 
looking  individual  who  had  been  a  counter-jumper 
yesterday,  was  a  commission  agent  to-day,  and  was 
about  to  be  a  convict  to-morrow.  On  the  other  hand, 
some  made  fortunes.  The  bookmaker  of  that  day 
was  usually  a  gaudily-dressed  individual  with  an 
elaborate  watch-chain,  pantomine  diamond  and  startling 
neck-tie. 

He  drove  a  T-cart  in  the  Park,  had  a  grand  house 
in  Bayswater,  and  gave  his  daughter  the  use  of  a 
brougham.  True,  he  had  an  odd  way  of  smoking  short 
pipes  in  his  drawing-room,  and  wasn't  above  tossing 
up  for  sixpences  with  his  footman  in  the  library.  Yet 
he  was  a  man  of  property,  and  one  who  might  some 
day  enter  Parliament,  always  supposing  he  kept  on 
the  top  of  the  wheel  and  lost  not  his  luck.  Let  but  the 
wheel  turn,  and  the  luck  change,  and  then  good-bye  to 
wealth  and  station,  and  welcome  once  more  the  pieman's 
humble  can,  the  perambulating  tradesman's  dirty  apron. 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  151 

The  T-cart  would  be  taken  by  creditors ;  the  house 
in  Bayswater  would  be  sold  by  auction,  and  the  daughter 
go  on  to  the  burlesque  or  music-hall  stage. 

The  old-fashioned  bookie,  who  was  often  an  original 
type,  has  long  vanished,  his  profession  being  now 
followed  by  gentlemen  of  unimpeachable  respectability. 

In  other  walks  of  life  there  were  quite  a  number 
of  characters  in  old  days — real  Bohemians  and  clever 
men  whom  people  declared  might  have  done  any- 
thing had  they  cared  to  make  use  of  their  great 
abilities. 

In  this  latter  idea,  however,  they  were  probably  wrong, 
for  the  majority  of  Bohemians  are  lacking  in  the  qualities 
indispensable  to  success. 

One  individual,  who  had  been  an  intimate  of  Disraeli 
and  other  noted  personalities,  evoked  many  regrets 
from  relatives  and  friends,  because  he  never  made  the 
slightest  attempt  to  shine  in  a  public  career. 

They  deplored  his  wasted  abilities  to  such  an  extent 
that  the  old  man  eventually  became  rather  inclined  to 
look  upon  himself  as  the  victim  of  circumstances,  and 
would  grow  quite  pathetic  about  it. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  every  opportunity  had  been  his. 
A  Peer,  rich,  well  educated  and  clever,  a  clear  path  to 
distinction  and  success  had  been  open  to  him. 

Spoilt,  and  by  nature  indolent  and  fond  of  his  ease,  he 
had  never  cared  even  to  think  of  taking  it,  and  had  he 
done  so,  in  all  probability  his  natural  defects  would 
have  soon  stopped  his  going  very  far. 

In  all  probability  instances  of  men  really  competent 
to  make  their  mark  who  have  completely  failed  to  do  so, 
are  rare. 

There  are,  of  course,  exceptions.  Such  a  one  was 
the  late  Mr  Cecil  Clay,  who  clearly  demonstrated  what 
he  might  have  done,  had  he  cared  to  set  to  work  as  a 
playwright,  by  writing  "  The  Pantomime  Rehearsal." 

In   any  case,  it  was  an  unusually  genial  disposition 


152      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

and  love  of  being  among  his  friends  which  prevented 
him  from  doing  serious  work. 

His  death  in  1920  robbed  London  clubland  of  an 
unique  personality  who  may  be  called  its  last  real 
Bohemian. 

I  never  remember  meeting  anyone  in  the  least  re- 
sembling this  charming  and  clever  man,  one  of  whose 
chief  characteristics  was  never  saying  anything  unkind 
to,  or  of,  anyone. 

An  inveterate  card-player,  he  was  quite  free  from  any  of 
that  petty  rapacity  which  so  frequently  clings  about  lovers 
of  the  green  cloth.  Always  the  most  generous  of  men, 
he  was  a  charming  winner  and  an  ever  philosophic  loser. 

Well  might  a  sporting  Baronet  christen  him  the  Lord 
Shaftesbury  of  the  card  table ;  no  one  was  ever  so 
reluctant  to  win  from  a  less  experienced  opponent  or 
from  a  poor  man  ! 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  Cecil  Clay  could  never 
be  induced  to  put  his  varied  and  interesting  recollections 
upon  paper. 

Gifted  with  an  excellent  memory,  he  was  full  of 
anecdotes,  besides  being  possessed  of  a  neat  and  pretty 
wit.  He  had  a  wonderfully  clever  and  witty  way  of 
describing  situations  and  people. 

Of  a  certain  individual,  whose  geniality  was  no  com- 
pensation for  his  underbred  ways,  he  said  :  "  I  think  he 
knows  he  is  not  quite  a  gentleman,  and  is  perpetually 
engaged  in  laughing  it  off." 

Speaking  of  an  individual  who  was  always  boasting 
of  his  long  acquaintance  with  well-known  people,  he 
said :  "  I  should  not  be  astonished  to  hear  him  say  that 
he  had  known  St  Paul's  Cathedral  ever  since  it  was 
a  little  chapel." 

Someone  speaking  of  Bohemianism,  the  decay  of  which 
those  present  had  been  lamenting,  happened  to  speak 
of  a  certain  well-known  bore  as  being  one  of  the  few 
Bohemians  left. 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  153 

"  I  can  scarcely  agree  with  you,"  said  Cecil  Clay. 

"  You  won't  deny  that  he  is  in  the  habit  of  sitting 
up  late." 

"  Yes,  but  alone  !  " 

Though  the  very  soul  of  good  nature,  Cecil  Clay  well 
understood  how  to  administer  a  rebuff,  and  when  he 
thought  it  necessary  did  so  with  excellent  effect. 

At  a  certain  dinner,  where  he  was  the  guest  of  the 
evening,  it  fell  to  an  American  to  propose  his  health, 
The  latter,  touching  on  Mr  Clay's  intimate  knowledge 
of  America,  drifted  away  into  a  comparison  between 
that  great  country  and  England,  with  the  result  that, 
carried  away  by  his  feelings,  he  concluded  with  :  "  Thank 
God  I  was  born  an  American  !  " 

Cecil  Clay,  rising  to  respond,  said :  "  My  dear  Billy, 
I  cannot  say  how  gratified  I  am  at  what  you  have  just 
said  at  the  end  of  your  speech. 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  have  always  been  so  occupied 
thinking  why  you  were  ever  born  at  all,  that  I  never 
gave  a  thought  as  to  where  it  might  have  been." 

A  good  deal  of  an  epicure  and  a  fine  judge  of  wine, 
Mr  Clay  enjoyed  life  to  the  full.  Nevertheless,  when 
stricken  by  an  illness  the  end  of  which  he  clearly  realized, 
he  showed  the  greatest  courage  and  calm. 

For  months  before  the  great  "  venite  "  summoned  him 
away  he  perfectly  realized  that  the  malady  which  had 
attacked  him  must  prove  fatal. 

Death,  to  quote  his  own  words,  he  neither  desired  nor 
feared,  but  when  the  moment  came  to  leave  a  world 
where  he  had  passed  many  happy  days  he  did  so  with  the 
gallant  humbleness  of  the  true  Christian.  His  turning 
of  life's  last  mournful  page  could  not  have  been  more 
tranquil. 

Another  Bohemian  whose  strong  individuality  refused 
to  be  obliterated  by  the  steam  roller  of  stupid  convention 
was  Harry  Irving,  a  delightful  man  whose  early  death  filled 
with  sorrow  all  who  had  had  the  privilege  of  knowing  him. 


154      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

The  clever  son  of  a  clever  father,  Irving  seemed  to  move 
through  existence  rather  as  if  through  a  dream.  In 
reality  it  was  his  great  mental  activity  which  absorbed 
him,  for  on  occasion  no  one  was  more  alert  than  he. 

This  delightful  character  fell  a  victim  to  the  Great  War 
just  as  much  as  any  soldier  who  went  over  the  top. 

To  begin  with,  it  greatly  saddened  him,  making  a  deep 
impression  upon  a  very  sensitive  mind.  Though  a  man 
whose  nature  it  was  to  live  free  and  untrammelled, 
contrary  to  all  his  instincts  he  took  up  sedentary  work 
in  the  Intelligence  Division  of  the  Admiralty.  The  long 
and  regular  hours  which  had  to  be  spent  cooped  up  in 
a  small  room  greatly  affected  poor  Irving's  health. 

Like  some  captive  bird  he  pined  (as  the  writer,  who  was 
in  the  same  Department,  observed)  visibly  from  day  to 
day  till  at  last  he  broke  down  altogether.  From  that 
time  onwards  he  never  really  rallied,  and  not  very  long- 
after  died. 

He  was  a  good  actor,  but  it  is  probable  that  had  he 
chosen  he  might  have  achieved  great  distinction  at  the 
Bar. 

As  a  criminologist  he  was  remarkable,  his  literary 
efforts  in  this  direction  being  well  known. 

He  was  an  admirable  conversationalist,  especially 
on  his  favourite  topic  of  crime,  which  he  would  discuss 
with  an  abundant,  though  never  tedious,  command  of 
detail. 

Cutting  his  words  clearly  and  speaking  excellent 
English,  both  of  which  are  rare  in  these  modern  days,  it 
was  a  delight  to  listen  to  his  conversation. 

With  regard  to  the  stage,  he  had  high  ideals.  On  the 
subject  of  British  dramatic  art  indeed  he  was  almost 
fanatically  patriotic,  being  entirely  convinced  that  it 
would  be  possible  to  raise  the  standard  of  English  acting 
to  the  same  level  as  that  of  France. 

Snobbery  and  hypocrisy  were  both  absolutely  alien  to 
this  fine  character,  whose  death,  besides  being  a  social 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  155 

tragedy,  robbed  England  of  what  she  can  ill  afford  to 
lose — a  charming,  cultured  and  clever  man. 

Of  the  small  band  of  young  men  who  in  the  'nineties, 
inspired  by  a  love  of  life  and  beauty,  made  some  real 
contributions  to  literature  and  art,  except  Mr  Arthur 
Symons  scarcely  one  remains.  Though  influenced  in 
some  degree  by  Oscar  Wilde,  Whistler  and  George  Moore, 
their  spirit  was  essentially  original,  as  may  be  seen  from 
the  work  they  did  for  the  Yellow  Book  and  the  Savoy, 
the  two  publications  which  convey  the  best  idea  of  their 
aims  and  style. 

They  are  not  long,  the  days  of  "  wine  and  roses,"  as  one 
of  the  coterie  sang,  and  it  is  noteworthy  that  though  these 
young  men  lived  their  lives  to  the  full,  not  a  few  indeed 
may  be  said  to  have  worn  themselves  out  in  a  too  keen 
pursuit  of  pleasure.  Their  work  is  strongly  tinged  with 
a  profound  pessimism,  as  if  they  foresaw  the  early  and 
in  some  cases  tragic  fate  which  lay  in  wait  for  some  of 
their  number. 

John  Davidson,  Hubert  Crackanthorpe  and  William 
Theodore  Peters  all  came  to  untimely  ends,  the  latter 
dying  of  starvation  in  Paris,  while  Ernest  Dowson,  Lionel 
Johnson  and  Aubrey  Beardsley  never  reached  middle 
age.  The  latter  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the  few  really 
original  artists  of  modern  days,  gifted  as  he  was  with 
an  astounding  command  of  line  and  an  imagination 
of  unbounded  if  sometimes  morbid  fancy. 

All  these  young  men  were  the  avowed  enemies 
of  "  respectability "  as  it  is  understood  by  English 
"  Villadom." 

London  life  in  the  'nineties  was  free  and  unfettered 
as  compared  to  that  of  to-day ;  nevertheless  they  levelled 
many  a  gibe  against  its  dominant  note  of  hypocrisy. 

What  would  the  clever  band  of  Bohemians  have  said 
concerning  the  present  state  of  affairs  ? 

Beardsley,  who  was  born  at  Brighton  in  1872,  may  be 
said  to  have  been  famous  at  twenty.  At  twenty-four  he 


156      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

was  dead.  Paris,  ever  ready  to  appreciate  true  artistic 
merit,  accepted  him  almost  at  once. 

During  his  short  career  he  profoundly  affected  black- 
and-white  illustration.  Many  tried  to  copy  him,  but  of 
those  who  have  sought  to  follow  in  his  footsteps,  not  one 
can  be  said  to  have  achieved  any  real  success. 

In  connection  with  this  master  of  line  it  may  be  noted 
that  he  showed  an  aptitude  for  drawing  from  a  very  early 
age ;  indeed,  even  when  a  child  it  was  evident  that  he 
had  great  gifts  in  that  direction. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  most  individuals  who  are  more 
clever  than  their  fellows  give  indications  of  having 
superior  brains  when  merely  children. 

If  any  serious  system  of  education  prevailed  in  England 
this  fact  would  be  taken  into  account,  and  such  children 
would  be  accorded  higher  facilities  for  learning  than  the 
mass  of  the  population,  which,  in  spite  of  the  gushing 
assertions  of  sentimentalists,  is  absolutely  hopeless  from 
an  educational  point  of  view. 

A  favourite  resort  of  Beardsley  and  his  friends  was  that 
quaint  French  watering-place  "  Dieppe."  No  doubt  the 
artificial  life  of  its  casino  during  the  season,  combined  with 
the  picturesqueness  of  the  old-world  town  and  ancient 
chateau,  strongly  appealed  to  the  minds  of  the  uncon- 
ventional but  cultured  little  party  who  liked  to  assemble 
there. 

The  difference  between  a  French  and  English  watering- 
place  is  immense,  the  advantage  being  indubitably  on  the 
side  of  France. 

A  cemetery  by  the  sea  indeed  is  scarcely  too  pessimistic 
a  description  of  many  of  our  own  seaside  resorts,  the 
most  exhilarating  entertainments  at  which  are  often  the 
sacred  concerts  given  on  a  shoddy  pier. 

A  short  time  ago  the  writer  of  these  lines  happened  to 
find  himself  in  the  old-fashioned  Norman  watering-place, 
the  complete  social  freedom  of  which  seemed  astounding 
after  the  slavish  restrictions  imposed  in  his  own  country. 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  157 

No  notice-boards  setting  forth  punishments  and 
penalties  disfigured  the  walks.  Police  were  scarcely  to 
be  seen  at  all,  yet  excellent  order  prevailed. 

The  casino,  with  its  games  and  dances,  remained  open 
till  four  in  the  morning,  while  music  sounded  gaily  in 
several  cafes  long  after  midnight. 

No  drinking  regulations  were  in  force  ;  nevertheless  no 
one  got  drunk  or  made  themselves  objectionable  to  others. 

Though  complete  social  freedom  prevailed,  everyone 
behaved  with  propriety.  People  seemed  to  realize  that 
good  behaviour  was  the  price  of  the  perfect  liberty  which 
they  enjoyed. 

There  is  no  question  but  that  this  was  real  civilization, 
as  contrasted  with  the  state-produced  barbarism  which 
prevails  at  home. 

Setting  aside  the  lighter  forms  of  amusement  which  are 
to  be  found  at  Dieppe,  there  is  much  there  to  attract  an 
artistic  visitor,  who  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  by  the  charm 
of  the  old  houses  which  line  its  quays  and  the  Place 
Nationale,  where  stands  the  striking  statue  by  Dantan  of 
brave  old  Admiral  Du  Quesne,  represented  in  his  prime 
with  hand  on  sword  hilt.  This  picturesque  effigy,  with 
the  fine  old  church  of  St  Jacques  as  a  background,  forms 
a  fitting  memorial  to  the  gallant  sailor  who  was  such  a 
worthy  representative  of  old  Dieppe. 

Both  the  churches  of  St  Jacques  and  St  Remy  suffered 
severely  during  the  Revolution.  In  the  latter,  the 
beautiful  organ  case  of  carved  oak  was  only  saved  by  the 
commander  of  the  National  Guard  claiming  it  as  his 
private  property,  while  a  fine  statue  in  rose-coloured 
marble  of  an  old-time  governor — Monsieur  de  Sygogne — 
was  broken  to  pieces  with  hammers  by  Breton  troops 
quartered  in  the  church. 

This  governor  it  was  who  added  the  outer  works  of 
the  chateau,  which  ancient  stronghold,  built  mainly  as 
a  protection  against  the  English,  was  garrisoned  by  a 
number  of  Royal  Engineers  during  the  Great  War. 


158      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Shots  fired  by  the  English  fleet  during  a  very  fierce  and 
effective  bombardment  of  Dieppe  in  1694  under  Lord 
Berkeley,  fell  on  the  roof  of  the  old  fortress,  on  which 
occasion  M.  de  Manneville,  the  governor  of  that  day, 
grew  extremely  angry.  Not  at  the  bombardment,  which 
for  some  reason  he  appears  to  have  treated  as  an  enter- 
tainment, but  because  his  cook,  fearful  lest  the  smoke 
from  the  kitchen  chimney  should  draw  the  enemy's  fire, 
refused  to  carry  out  his  functions. 

The  governor,  however,  had  the  poor  chef  made  to  cook 
by  force,  and  succeeded  in  dining  as  usual  in  spite  of  the 
bombardment. 

It  is  recorded  that  the  company  at  the  chateau  were 
much  amused,  as  were  those  who  afterwards  perused  the 
governor's  humorous  account  of  the  whole  affair.  The 
town,  however,  suffered  terribly  and  had  in  great  part  to 
be  rebuilt. 

The  old  chateau  well  deserves  the  visitor's  attention. 
It  is  to  be  deplored  that  internally  it  is  in  bad  condition. 
A  fine  wrought -iron  staircase  has  gone,  possibly  to  the 
mansion  of  some  trans- Atlantic  millionaire  ;  several  of  the 
marble  mantel-pieces  have  been  torn  from  their  places ; 
while  the  eighteenth-century  panelling  is  for  the  most 
part  in  sad  disrepair. 

Nevertheless  the  place  is  in  its  own  way  far  more 
attractive  than  many  a  carefully  restored  castle.  The 
true  spirit  of  the  old  world  lingers  within  the  ancient 
walls  from  which  Louis  XIV  as  a  young  man  witnessed 
the  return  of  Du  Quesne  with  four  captured  men  of  war. 

On  a  recent  visit  the  writer  was  informed  that  repairs, 
of  which  certain  portions  of  the  fabric  are  certainly  in  need, 
were  to  be  undertaken  by  the  town  of  Dieppe  during  the 
coming  winter. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  restoration  in  question  will 
not  be  as  drastic  as  that  which  the  Porte  de  1' Quest 
(the  old  gate  with  two  towers  opposite  the  casino)  has 
undergone. 


BOHEMIAN  DAYS  159 

Within  the  last  two  years  the  back  of  the  old  gateway  in 
question,  as  well  as  the  interior,  has  been  completely 
transformed. 

The  restoration,  while  sweeping  away  eighteenth- 
century  work,  purported  to  restore  the  old  structure  to 
its  original  condition.  This  is  always  the  plea  of  the 
restorer,  who  seems  entirely  to  forget  that  a  building 
which  epitomizes  the  work  of  sev.eral  periods,  is  far 
more  interesting  than  any  so-called  reconstitution  of 
one  particular  style. 

The  Porte  de  1'Ouest  is  the  last  of  several  fine  old  gates 
which  formerly  existed  at  Dieppe,  being  the  only  one 
spared  at  the  demolition  of  the  old  feudal  walls  in 
1830-1840. 

Joan  of  Arc  is  said  to  have  been  imprisoned  there  while 
she  was  being  conveyed  to  Rouen  for  trial. 

Cannon  have  often  thundered  from  its  embrasures  at 
the  invader,  and  the  men-at-arms  of  many  different 
epochs  have  passed  under  its  gateway. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  most  picturesque  relic  of  the 
Middle  Ages  will  be  tampered  with  no  more. 

The  old  walls  of  the  town,  which  dated  back  to  the  days 
of  Crecy,  have  gone.  Gone  also  the  Tour  aux  Crabes  in  the 
harbour  and  the  picturesque  "  Porte  de  la  Barre."  The 
latter  had  witnessed  many  kings  enter  its  portals  and 
been  the  scene  of  many  a  fight  between  citizens  and  the 
governor  of  the  chateau. 

The  old  chapel  of  St  Nicholas,  for  ages  a  landmark  for 
those  at  sea,  has  also  long  disappeared;  in  short,  the  only 
relic  of  the  feudal  walls  and  towers  which  girdled  Dieppe 
up  to  1830  are  the  two  tourelles  which  it  may  be  hoped 
will  long  be  allowed  to  survive. 

Dieppe  has  not  been  changed  so  much  as  some  other 
French  watering-places  by  the  Great  War,  and  the 
gambling  at  the  casino  remains  for  the  most  part  moderate, 
at  any  rate  as  compared  with  that  to  be  seen  at  Biarritz 
and  other  fashionable  resorts  like  Deauville,  which,  with 


160      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

its  fanciful  villas,  artistic  casino  and  wealth  of  bright 
flowers,  so  well  carries  out  the  idea  that  a  town  of  pleasure 
should  be  the  expression  of  a  caprice. 

The  resort  in  question  of  course  caters  mainly  for  the 
gay  world,  and  has  been  the  Paradise  of  the  high-class 
Parisian  cocotte  from  the  days  of  its  founder  the  Due  de 
Morny  to  those  of  Gaby  Delys. 

This  flamboyant  -looking  little  dancer  (whose  last  days  of 
health  were  passed  here),  beneath  her  mask  of  outrageous 
frivolity,  concealed  a  tender  heart  and  a  thoughtful 
little  brain.  For  generations  to  come  the  sick  children 
of  Marseilles  will  have  reason  to  bless  the  name  of 
the  little  divette  who  sleeps  her  last  sleep  in  a  peaceful 
spot  near  the  Mediterranean,  visited,  one  likes  to  think, 
by  the  shades  of  Lais  and  Aspasia,  borne  thither  on  the 
jasmin-scented  breeze. 


»  IX 

PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR 

THE  Paris  of  pre-war  days  was  a  different  Paris 
from  that  of  to-day;  the  changes,  however, 
are  not  so  great  as  those  to  be  observed  in 
London,  which  rigorous  and  quite  unnecessary  austerity 
has  made  into  the  dullest  city  in  the  world. 

The  strain  and  suffering  of  the  long  struggle  have 
left  their  traces  upon  the  gay  city,  but  they  have  not 
impaired  the  charms  of  the  Boulevards,  the  gracefulness 
of  the  women,  the  deep  blue  of  the  Paris  sky,  and  the 
merry,  careless,  exciting  disposition  of  the  Parisians 
generally. 

The  man  or  woman  of  the  people  has  a  totally  different 
outlook  upon  life  from  that  which  prevails  across  the 
channel. 

A  French  working-man,  for  instance,  is  contented 
with  the  most  frugal  dinner,  if  in  the  evening  he  can 
but  afford  to  take  a  place  and  laugh  or  weep  at  the 
theatre.  The  Englishman  wants  meat,  good  meat,  and 
plenty  of  it,  while  the  British  proletariat  cares  little 
or  nothing  for  "  the  feast  of  the  soul."  John  Bull  is 
apt  to  despise  the  French  frog-eaters.  He  has  no  idea 
that  the  French  ouvrier  is,  after  all,  a  more  civilized 
creature  than  he  is,  exactly  because  to  the  Frenchman 
his  Sunday  dinner  is  not,  as  is  the  case  with  the 
lower  classes  of  the  English,  the  most  important  part 
of  the  Sunday. 

There  is  something  about  the  mental  atmosphere  of 
Paris  which  quickens  the  artistic  powers  of  the  mind, 
a  proof  of  which  is  that  French  art  workers,  once  they 


162      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

have  left  the  gay  city,  do  not  achieve  the  same  per- 
fection as  when  at  home.  After  the  great  Revolution 
a  number  of  first-class  artificers  came  to  England,  but 
the  metal-work  they  produced  here  was  not  of  anything 
like  the  same  degree  of  merit  as  that  with  which  they 
had  formerly  invested  the  fine  furniture  supplied  to  the 
old  noblesse. 

The  Gallic  temperament  would  seem  to  be  highly 
susceptible  to  external  influences. 

Artists  like  Fragonard,  Moreau  le  Jeune,  Debucourt, 
and  many  others,  who  previous  to  1789  had  produced 
the  most  beautiful  masterpieces,  became  as  it  were 
completely  paralysed,  their  works  after  that  date  being 
of  much  inferior  quality.  Oddly  enough,  most  of  them 
welcomed  the  storm  which  with  many  other  things  was 
to  sweep  their  genius  away. 

When  the  Great  War  broke  out,  in  Paris  as  in  London, 
things  at  first  went  on  pretty  much  as  usual,  but  soon 
the  music  was  hushed  and  the  lights  dimmed,  while  all 
dancing  ceased.  Certain  theatres,  however,  continued 
to  keep  open. 

With  the  dawn  of  peace,  after  four  years  of  dreadful 
struggle  against  an  invading  foe,  Paris  naturally  in- 
dulged in  rejoicing,  but  before  long  lack  of  coal  began 
to  make  itself  felt,  and  for  a  time  the  restaurants,  in 
order  to  economize  lights  and  heating,  were  ordered  to 
be  closed  at  ten,  a  regulation  which,  of  course,  robbed 
the  city  of  all  its  accustomed  gaiety  and  life. 

At  the  present  time,  however,  when  the  necessity 
for  economizing  coal  has  ceased  (March  1921),  closing 
hours  are  again  much  the  same  as  before  the  war. 

It  should  be  added,  that  never  at  any  time  were  any 
closing  regulations  applied  to  clubs  ;  it  is  only  in  England 
that  such  an  unwarrantable  interference  with  personal 
liberty  would  have  been  dreamt  of. 

The  extraordinary  thing  is  that  the  English,  formerly 
so  zealous  as  to  any  Government  interference  with  their 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  163 

private  lives,  should  have  accepted  these  edicts  with 
lamblike  weakness. 

French  customs  and  ideas  have  not  been  changed 
by  the  war.  It  is  said  that  in  the  old  French  villages 
on  the  Picardy  front,  the  only  effect  produced  by  the 
presence  of  English  troops  for  five  years  is  that 
the  country  folk  eat  pickles  with  their  boiled  beef. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  considering  the  vast  numbers  of 
English  and  American  troops  which  remained  in  France 
so  long,  the  slight  influence  they  seem  to  have  had  upon 
the  people  they  came  to  help  is  extraordinary. 

This  is  perhaps  just  as  well.  The  vivacious  French 
spirit  is  essentially  unsuited  to  regulations  dictated  by 
Puritanism  and  cant  such  as  prevail  in  our  own 
metropolis,  and  Paris  would  soon  lose  its  charm  were 
it  to  assume  the  mask  of  hypocrisy  with  which  modern 
London  covers  its  vices.  Besides,  if  it  became  staid, 
moral  and  austere,  there  would  be  no  place  for  our 
social  reformers  to  go  and  obtain  pleasant  compensations 
for  the  dullness  which  their  altruistic  efforts  have  produced 
at  home. 

Though  ever  ready  to  make  money  out  of  visitors, 
the  prolonged  occupation  of  a  portion  of  France  by 
foreign  troops  was  regarded  with  mixed  feelings  by 
many  of  the  inhabitants. 

The  peasantry,  in  many  cases,  liked  the  English 
soldiery — some  were  even  sorry  when  they  left — but  on 
the  whole,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  French  were  very 
glad  to  get  rid  of  their  allies. 

In  Paris  the  English  are  no  more  popular  than  before 
the  war — some  say  less ;  while,  owing  to  the  wild  doings 
of  some  of  the  Americans  who  took  advantage  of  the 
social  freedom  denied  to  them  in  their  own  country, 
the  latter  have  not  obtained  the  full  share  of  gratitude 
which  their  timely  and  generous  aid  to  France 
deserved. 

The  French,  though  fond  of  pleasure,  do  not  like 


164      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

rowdiness  and  intemperance,  both  of  which  are  apt 
to  be  indulged  in  by  those  accustomed  to  live  under 
Puritan  regulations. 

The  Parisian  in  particular  despises  people  who  cannot 
amuse  themselves  without  noise  and  vulgarity.  Drunken- 
ness he  does  not  understand  at  all,  having,  from  his 
youth  up,  been  allowed  free  access  to  wine  and  alcohol, 
he  thinks  it  merely  brutish  to  exceed. 

The  amount  drunk  by  Anglo-Saxon  visitors  in  Paris 
astounds  ordinary  French  people,  many  of  whom 
declare  that  the  quantity  consumed  by  the  British  has 
grown  much  larger  since  the  curtailment  of  drinking 
hours  in  England. 

People  who  suddenly  find  themselves  no  longer  treated 
as  children  are  often  incapable  of  restraint ! 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  vast  majority  of  English 
visitors  do  not  abuse  the  freedom  which  is  denied  them 
in  their  own  country.  They  and  other  foreigners,  it 
may  be  added,  now  form  the  vast  majority  of  persons 
frequenting  the  more  expensive  restaurants. 

The  better  class  of  French,  owing,  no  doubt,  to  bereave- 
ment and  also  to  high  prices,  do  not  go  about  nearly 
as  much  as  in  former  days.  There  is,  however,  no  lack 
of  flashily-dressed  men  and  women  throwing  about 
money,  indirectly  made  through  the  war. 

A  smart  restaurant  with  its  lights,  gilding,  and  music 
makes  an  especial  appeal  to  this  class,  who  not  having 
drunk  much  champagne  in  early  life,  seem  to  concentrate 
their  energies  upon  making  up  for  lost  time. 

Many  of  these  profiteers  came  to  Paris  at  the  beginning 
of  the  war  with  but  a  few  sous  in  their  pockets.  Luckily 
for  them,  as  one  more  cynical  than  the  rest  remarked, 
other  people  had  pockets  too,  some  of  which  could 
stand  a  good  deal  of  emptying. 

For  the  foreign  visitor  there  are  several  ways  of  seeing 
Paris. 

Should   you   be   possessed   of   unlimited  wealth  you 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  165 

can  take  up  your  abode  at  the  Ritz  with  plenty  of  trunks 
—one  wealthy  daughter  of  America  brought  ninety-eight 
— live  entirely  at  expensive  restaurants,  and  wile  away 
the  time  between  meals  by  talking  scandal,  buying 
dresses  if  you  are  a  lady,  or  costly  objets  d'art  if  you  are 
a  man. 

As  everyone  connected  with  these  industries  speaks 
English,  you  need  not  bother  at  all  about  the  French ; 
indeed,  except  for  a  few  minor  details  you  might  just 
as  well  be  in  London  or  New  York. 

Again,  if  you  are  not  rich,  you  can  stay  at  some  in- 
expensive hotel  or  pension  frequented  by  Anglo-Saxons, 
who,  besides  saving  you  the  bother  of  having  to  learn 
French,  will  put  you  up  to  all  sorts  of  ways  of  living 
much  as  in  your  own  country. 

If,  however,  you  are  an  imaginative  individual  with 
Bohemian  or  artistic  tastes,  stay  at  a  French  hotel, 
avoid  like  poison  all  restaurants  frequented  by  fashion- 
able strangers,  walk  all  over  the  old  quarters  of  the  city, 
and  see  as  much  as  you  can  of  the  Parisians  in  their 
own  especial  haunts. 

Besides  this,  a  study  of  the  history  of  Paris,  its  build- 
ings and  monuments,  will  give  you  an  abiding  and  ever- 
increasing  interest  in  the  past,  the  most  artistic  and 
most  beautiful  capital  in  the  modern  world. 

Men  come  and  men  go,  but  the  life  of  Paris  remains 
much  the  same,  depending  as  it  has  always  done  in 
this  city  of  facile  gaiety  and  love,  upon  the  eternal 
feminine. 

Whether  it  be  in  the  Quartier  Latin,  or  the  Boulevards, 
or  in  Montmartre,  woman  is  the  pivot  upon  which  every- 
thing turns. 

The  French  woman,  while  rarely  endowed  with  such 
a  good  skin  as  her  sister  across  the  Channel,  has  physical 
attractions  of  her  own.  Many  a  piquante  little  face, 
together  with  great  vivacity  of  expression,  shows  great 
character. 


166      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

On  the  whole  the  French  women,  in  spite  of  their 
intense  femininity,  are  the  most  determined  little  people 
in  the  world,  also  they  are  extremely  intelligent  and 
sharp.  It  is  rarely,  indeed,  that  a  good-looking  one 
does  not  obtain  anything  she  has  set  her  heart  on. 

The  French  woman  is  also  often  endowed  with  great 
physical  courage,  and  indeed  is  capable  of  developing 
the  energy  of  a  tigress  when  roused. 

The  Paris  of  "  the  day  before  yesterday "  was  in 
many  ways  a  brighter  Paris  than  that  of  to-day.  In 
the  'eighties  of  the  last  century  there  was  still  a  dis- 
tinctive individuality  about  the  Parisian's  dress  ;  now 
the  men  are  dressed  in  very  much  the  same  way  as 
Englishmen  ;  their  clothes,  however,  are  as  a  rule  not 
of  as  good  material  or  cut,  while  certain  little  eccen- 
tricities of  costume  are  not  uncommon. 

The  old-fashioned  peg-top  trousers,  huge  butterfly  tie 
and  straight-brimmed  top  hat,  seem  to  have  disappeared 
altogether  since  the  war,  which  all  over  the  world  has 
given  added  impetus  to  the  modern  mania  for  drab 
uniformity. 

Up  to  about  thirty-five  years  ago  varied  military 
uniforms  which  had  survived  the  downfall  of  the  Second 
Empire  gave  colour  and  variety  to  the  streets. 

The  Garde  de  Paris  and  the  Sapeurs  Pompiers  still 
wore  pretty  little  cocked  hats  in  undress,  while  the 
uniform  of  the  officers  was  far  gayer  than  to-day. 

In  those  days  not  a  few  of  the  old-fashioned  restaurants 
still  flourished,  and  there  were  other  peculiarly  French 
features  which  have  now  become  pretty  well  obsolete, 
or  are  only  to  be  found  in  provincial  towns. 

The  blackened  ruins  of  the  Tuileries  and  of  the  Cour 
des  Comptes,  destroyed  in  the  Commune,  still  stood,  and 
a  number  of  quaint  old  houses  and  narrow,  tortuous 
streets,  survivals  of  pre-Haussmann  days,  had  not  yet 
been  pulled  down. 

There  were  then,  of  course,  no  palatial  hotels,  but  at 


A   FAIR   PARISIENNE 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  167 

the  Bristol,  Maurice's  or  the  Rhin  wealthy  visitors  found 
every  convenience  and  luxury. 

The  theatres,  while  giving  excellent  plays,  were,  if 
possible,  even  stuffier  and  more  uncomfortable  than  at 
present,  but  music-halls  and  cafe  concerts  provided  a 
much  more  distinctive  and  original  entertainment  than 
is  now  to  be  seen  or  heard. 

English  products  were  hard  to  get,  pale  ale  being 
considered  a  luxury. 

It  used  then  to  be  next  door  to  the  impossible  to 
obtain  cigars  of  even  tolerable  quality  in  Paris. 

Old  Parisians  used  to  say  that  there  existed  an  in- 
fallible safeguard  against  the  breaking  out  of  conflagra- 
tions in  France,  namely,  to  thatch  the  houses  with  the 
Government  tobacco  and  try  to  set  fire  to  them 
with  the  "concession"  matches. 

The  first  wouldn't  burn,  and  the  second  would  not  light. 

At  the  present  time,  however,  quite  decent  if  rather 
expensive  cigars  can  be  purchased  at  the  Government 
tobacco  shop  on  the  Boulevard  opposite  the  Grand 
Hotel. 

Within  recent  years  a  once  familiar  feature  of  the 
Paris  streets  has  disappeared.  Gone  are  the  huge 
horse  omnibuses,  their  place  having  been  taken  by  long 
motors,  which  for  some  reason  or  other  have  no  seats 
on  the  roof.  Thus  passengers  are  deprived  of  the  view 
of  the  boulevards  so  popular  in  the  days  of  the  old 
horse  'bus. 

An  amusing  song  used  to  describe  the  experiences 
of  an  individual  on  "  1'Imperiale,"  as  it  was  called  then  : 

"  Ah,  me  dit  il  en  souriant, 
C'est  epatant  c'est  epatant, 
Tout  ce  qu'on  peut  apercevoir, 
Au  travers  les  rideaux  les  soirs. 
En  s'en  allant,  en  s'en  allant, 
En  s'en  allant,  Place  Pigalle  : 
Sur  1'Imperiale !  " 


168       MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

In  some  ways  the  French  are  the  most  conservative 
of  people,  and  out  of  the  great  boulevards  street  vendors 
may  still  be  heard  calling  out  their  not  unmelodious  cries, 
some  of  which  are  identical  with  those  of  the  eighteenth 
century. 

On  fete  days  every  sort  of  itinerant  mountebank  and 
beggar  is  allowed  to  do  pretty  well  as  he  likes,  and  street 
musicians  emerge  from  goodness  knows  where,  who  play 
upon  archaic  instruments  and  antique  organs  of  the 
weirdest  kind. 

The  public  always  seem  to  be  deeply  interested  in 
these  people,  jugglers  and  cheapjacks  being  generally 
encircled  by  large  and  appreciative  crowds,  who  pre- 
sumably contribute  enough  to  make  their  quaint  and 
ocasionally  clever  business  worth  while. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  last  century  there  were  still 
many  characteristic  survivals  of  old  Paris  :  students 
with  slouched  hats  and  hair  ignorant  of  scissors,  children 
in  wooden  shoes,  and  old  pensioners,  a  few  of  whom 
could  tell  stories  of  Borodino  and  other  battles  which 
led  up  to  the  final  catastrophe  of  the  great  soldier  who 
had  been  to  many  almost  a  god. 

In  modern  Paris  (unlike  modern  London)  the  police 
are  very  little  seen ;  the  agents,  indeed,  seem  to  have  got 
fewer  in  number  since  the  war.  They  are  not  as  im- 
pressive in  appearance  as  the  English  policeman,  nor  are 
they  picturesque  as  were  the  fierce-moustached,  truculent 
"  sergents  de  ville "  of  the  Second  Empire  with  their 
cocked  hats  and  their  long  rapiers.  The  latter  were 
intensely  hated  by  the  dangerous  classes,  who  at  the  same 
time  feared  them.  They  did  their  work  in  a  very  efficient, 
if  occasionally  uncompromising  manner.  Many  of  these 
vanished  guardians  of  law  and  order  were  Corsicans, 
stern  "  Decembrists  " — that  is  to  say,  true  as  steel  to 
the  House  of  Bonaparte,  if  to  nobody  else.  The  force 
likewise  comprised  a  large  contingent  of  Alsatians  and 
Lorrainers,  men  of  great  physical  stamina  and  great 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  169 

probity,  but  somewhat  rude  in  speech  and  rough  in 
manner.  But  they  managed  to  control  the  vehicular 
traffic  in  the  street,  and  kept  the  dangerous  classes  in 
wholesome  awe. 

At  the  present  time,  going  for  a  walk  in  Paris  has  much  of 
the  excitement  of  starting  for  a  steeplechase,  the  speed  of 
the  automobiles  and  taxis  being  practically  uncontrolled. 

The  only  real  path  of  safety  is  in  waiting  at  a  crossing 
till  a  small  child  or  baby  in  arms  comes  along,  when 
the  hitherto  apathetic  gardien  de  la  paix  usually  waves 
his  truncheon  in  the  air,  blows  a  whistle,  and  holds  up 
all  traffic  till  the  infant  has  got  safely  across  the  road. 

The  Exhibition  of  1879  attracted  a  great  number  of 
English  people  of  moderate  means  to  Paris.  At  that 
time  the  tourist  was  generally  conspicuous  on  account 
of  his  dress ;  it  used  to  be  a  custom  with  a  certain 
class  of  person  to  put  on  their  worst  clothes  to  go 
abroad  in,  the  idea  being  that  it  wouldn't  matter,  nobody 
knowing  who  one  might  be. 

The  Rue  de  Rivoli,  full  of  shops  catering  mainly  for 
foreigners,  was  about  the  most  popular  street  with  these 
individuals,  the  most  economical  of  whom  managed 
to  "  do  Paris,"  as  they  called  it,  very  cheaply. 

The  Palais  Royal  was  then  full  of  inexpensive  restaurants 
which  provided  an  imitation  of  a  good  lunch  or  dinner 
at  a  ridiculously  low  rate.  There  were  table  d'hotes 
as  low  as  one  franc  fifty. 

A  favourite  and  costless  amusement  of  tourists  in 
those  days  after  dinner  was  to  walk  about  the  streets  and 
look  at  the  jewellers'  shops,  which  were  then  kept  open 
and  brilliantly  lit  up  till  ten  or  eleven  at  night.  At 
that  time  the  shops  of  Paris  seemed  never  to  close  ; 
few  were  shut  on  Sundays.  The  introduction  of  "la 
semaine  Anglaise,"  however,  has  put  an  end  to  this 
state  of  affairs. 

In  the  'eighties  the  masked  balls  at  the  Opera  House 
were  still  in  full  swing. 


170      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Old  Parisians  used  to  complain  that  the  revels  in 
question  had  lost  all  animation  and  life ;  nevertheless 
the  place,  crammed  as  it  was  with  women  in  fancy  costume, 
presented  a  wonderful  scene  of  gaiety,  while  the  music 
was  gay  and  inspiriting  to  a  degree. 

Bands  of  young  men  students  and  others  used  to 
ramble  all  over  the  Opera  House  during  these  balls 
looking  out  for  girls  dressed  in  startling  or  particularly 
scanty  dresses.  When  they  found  one  they  would 
hoist  her  on  someone's  shoulders  and  carry  her  in 
triumph  round  the  corridors  at  the  back  of  the  boxes, 
joking,  singing,  and  making  every  kind  of  din. 

The  girls,  it  should  be  added,  generally  enjoyed  the 
fun,  into  which  they  entered  with  zest. 

When,  however,  they  found  things  getting  too  lively 
they  generally  managed  to  get  away — the  Frenchwoman 
possesses  a  self-assurance  and  tact  which  stand  her  in 
good  stead  in  any  predicament. 

Attempts,  it  may  be  added,  have  recently  been 
made  to  revive  the  glories  of  these  opera  balls,  owing, 
however,  to  the  high  price  of  admission  the  company 
is  less  Bohemian  and  more  restrained  in  its  behaviour 
than  in  old  days. 

In  the  'eighties  there  were  still  survivors  of  the  British 
colony  which  existed  in  Paris  in  the  old  days  when 
quite  a  number  of  aristocratic  Englishmen  made  their 
home  in  Paris.  About  the  last  was  Mr  Mackenzie 
Grieves,  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  who  in  early  life 
had  been  an  officer  in  the  "  Blues,"  and  who  died  not 
a  great  number  of  years  ago.  A  remarkable  judge  of 
horseflesh,  especially  of  the  great  Norman  horses  known 
as  percherons,  he  was  also  well  known  as  a  perfect  master 
of  the  haute  ecole.  His  judgment  in  Turf  matters  was 
also  held  in  very  great  respect  in  Paris,  and  his  im- 
maculate frock-coat  and  voluminous  tie  were  seldom 
absent  from  Longchamp,  where  a  race  named  after 
him  perpetuates  his  memory. 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  171 

Mr  Mackenzie  Grieves  was  a  polished  representative 
of  all  that  was  best  in  the  French  society  of  the  past. 
Possessing  the  most  charming  manners,  there  was 
something  about  him  which  vividly  recalled  what  one 
had  heard  of  the  best  days  of  the  old  regime ;  his 
costume,  for  instance,  though  of  extreme  simplicity,  had 
a  particular  note  of  distinction  which  has  now  totally 
disappeared  from  men's  dress. 

Mr  Mackenzie  Grieves  was  as  great  an  authority  on 
French  social  matters  as  any  Parisian,  and  was  a  member 
of  the  most  exclusive  clubs  to  which  foreigners  rarely 
obtain  admission.  Club  life  in  Paris  is  vastly  different 
from  that  of  London. 

At  clubs  like  the  Jockey  and  the  Rue  Royale,  for 
instance,  it  is  an  unwritten  law  that  a  new  member 
should  be  introduced  to  all  the  old  ones,  a  fashion  which, 
necessitating  as  it  does  an  enormous  amount  of  bowing, 
hand-shaking  and  complimenting,  is  generally  little  to 
the  taste  of  Englishmen. 

Within  comparatively  recent  years  several  foreign 
clubs  have  been  started  in  Paris.  The  most  im- 
portant of  these  is,  of  course,  the  Travellers',  so 
sumptuously  housed  in  the  splendid  mansion  erected 
by  Madame  de  Paiva,  the  famous  courtezan  who 
became  the  wife  of  the  Silesian  millionaire-Count 
Henckel  von  Donnersmarck. 

The  Paiva  was  fond  of  entertaining  clever  people, 
and  most  of  the  celebrated  writers  of  the  day  went  to 
her  dinners  and  parties. 

Looking  about  to  find  an  appropriate  name  for  her 
new  home  she  applied  to  Arsene  Houssaye. 

"  A  poet  like  you,"  said  she,  "  can  easily  help  me." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  he,  with  a  smile.  "  There's  only 
one  name  for  it :  '  The  Palace  of  the  thousand  and 
one  nights.'  " 

The  house,  on  the  decoration  of  which  enormous  sums 
were  spent,  with  the  exception  of  certain  minor  altera- 


172      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

tions,  remains  unaltered.  A  modern  entrance,  how- 
ever, replaces  an  archway,  by  which  in  the  Paiva's  day 
one  could  drive  into  the  courtyard. 

A  curious  feature  is  the  elaborate  bathroom,  still  in 
its  original  condition.  This  makes  a  most  agreeable 
little  dining-room,  a  dining  table  being  arranged  over 
the  sunken  bath. 

Before  the  house  became  the  abode  of  the  Travellers' 
Club  it  had  for  a  brief  period  been  a  restaurant  run  by 
Cubat,  a  former  chef  of  the  Czar,  who  had  purchased 
the  mansion  which  Count  Henckel's  second  wife  did  not 
appreciate. 

Cubat,  who  had  an  idea  of  making  the  place  the  most 
luxurious  dining  resort  in  Europe,  spent  large  sums  upon 
its  installation,  two  sets  of  plate — one  silver  gilt,  the 
other  gold — being  provided  for  especially  luxurious 
diners. 

To  Cubat's  one  evening  came  a  well-known  Parisian 
viveur  with  a  very  pretty  little  lady.  The  former  was 
of  mature  years,  and  well  understood  that  when  Cupid 
makes  use  of  an  old  beau  he  can  only  hit  the  mark 
by  tipping  his  arrow  with  gold,  consequently  he  gave 
directions  that  a  sumptuous  dinner  should  be  served, 
on  golden  plate,  in  one  of  the  little  private  rooms. 

Everything  went  merry  as  a  marriage  bell,  but  when 
a  bill  of  some  5000  francs  arrived  it  fairly  staggered 
the  boulevardier,  whom  it  took  much  to  astonish. 

2000  francs,  as  he  told  the  maitre  d'hotel,  he  could 
understand,  but  how  did  he  explain  the  3000  francs 
against  which  there  was  nothing  but  an  undecipherable 
scrawl  ? 

"  That,  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  said  the  man,  bending  down 
and  speaking  in  a  low  voice,  "  is  for  the  spoon  and  fork 
which  madame  has  got  in  her  stocking." 

The  bill  was  paid. 

Notwithstanding  his  gold  plate  and  high  charges, 
Cubat  failed  to  make  a  success  of  his  restaurant,  and 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  173 

the  house,  after  standing  empty  for  some  time,  eventually 
became  the  Travellers'  Club. 

A  French  club  is  a  totally  distinct  institution  from 
an  English  one.  Card-playing  in  most  cases  is  the  main 
raison  d'etre  of  its  existence :  a  Frenchman  would  not 
belong  to  a  club  at  all  if  the  only  thing  to  do  there 
was  to  read  the  papers. 

Clubs  in  the  English  sense  have  never  become  really 
acclimatized  on  the  Continent,  the  French  club  having 
developed  rather  from  the  casino  than  from  anything 
else. 

Nevertheless,  these  "  Cercles,"  as  they  are  called, 
are  usually  well  managed,  and  provide  excellent  food 
at  a  moderate  price. 

For  the  most  part  these  are  well  conducted,  the  play 
being  perfectly  fair ;  indeed,  there  is  no  particular  reason 
why  it  should  be  otherwise,  the  sums  taken  by  the 
cagnotte — that  is,  the  percentage  levied  on  banks — 
running  into  big  figures  even  after  the  Government 
tax  has  been  deducted. 

The  cagnotte,  indeed,  is  usually  the  real  support  of 
these  places  and  enables  the  members  to  obtain  excellent 
lunches  and  dinners  at  a  very  moderate  price. 

At  one  of  these  gaming  clubs,  where  the  membership 
was  rather  mixed,  a  well-known  English  nobleman, 
having  found  that  his  pocket-book,  containing  several 
thousand  francs,  had  been  taken  out  of  his  coat  hanging 
in  the  hall,  hinted  to  the  committee  that  it  must  have 
been  purloined  either  by  the  waiters  or  the  members. 
Their  answer  was :  "  We  can  answer  for  the  waiters  \  " 

Not  a  few  of  the  latter  are  quite  wealthy  men.  They 
receive  a  good  deal  of  money  in  tips,  in  addition  to  which 
it  is  not  unusual  for  them  to  do  a  little  illicit  money- 
lending. 

A  member  of  one  of  these  clubs  once  called  up  the 
old  head  waiter  and  said,  "  Baptiste,  I  want  a  valet.  Can 
you  find  a  good  man  for  me  ?  " 


174      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

"  Alas,  Monsieur,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  fear  not.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  I  have  been  unable  to  find  one  for  my 
own  household." 

Baptiste,  it  afterwards  transpired,  was  worth  about 
£20,000,  largely  the  proceeds  of  a  successful  speculation 
into  which  he  had  put  his  savings. 

The  popular  hour  for  play  is  in  the  afternoon  after 
racing,  when  banks  often  run  high.  At  certain  clubs 
chemin  de  fer  baccarat  is  played,  but  this  is  not  so  much 
liked  by  the  French  as  the  old-fashioned  game  with, 
two  tableaux. 

The  cagnotte  at  chemin  de  fer  is  of  course  much  higher, 
a  percentage  being  taken  on  practically  every  coup, 
whereas  at  ordinary  baccarat  the  banker  only  pays  for 
his  bank  and  renewals. 

Chemin  de  fer,  as  the  French  call  it,  almost  certainly 
results  in  a  loss  for  players,  unless  they  limit  their  play 
to  short  periods,  for  the  recurrence  of  the  tax  levied  on 
winning  hands  must  hit  everyone  who  does  not  have 
extraordinary  luck. 

During  the  war  baccarat  ceased  in  Paris,  though 
ecarte  and  other  games  were  played  pretty  much  as  in 
ordinary  times. 

The  drastic  regulations  which  were  applied  to  English 
dubs  during  the  war  and  which  have  since — most 
unjustly — not  yet  been  abolished  were  not  copied  on 
the  other  side  of  the  channel.  French  clubs  kept  open 
much  as  usual.  The  French  are  very  intelligent  in 
such  matters,  and  saw  no  necessity  to  make  rules  merely 
for  the  pleasure  of  making  them,  as  appears  to  be  the 
modern  English  way. 

To-day  baccarat  flourishes  in  France  as  much  if  not 
more  than  before  the  war  ;  indeed,  French  pleasure  resorts 
could  not  contrive  to  exist  were  baccarat  and  petits 
chevaux  to  be  suppressed,  for  a  certain  portion  of  the 
large  profit  derived  from  play  is  devoted  to  the  upkeep 
of  the  casinos,  which  furnish  visitors  with  excellent 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  175 

entertainment .  It  is,  indeed,  owing  directly  and  indirectly 
to  the  toleration  of  play  that  the  French  plages  are  proving 
such  formidable  rivals  to  the  miserably  dull  English 
seaside  resorts,  full  of  minatory  notice-boards,  cast  iron 
and  asphalte,  which  offer  visitors  few  attractions  besides 
golf.  As  a  matter  of  fact  golfers  are  now  well  catered  for 
on  the  Continent,  where  good  links  are  becoming  fairly 
common. 

"  Allez  !  allez!"  said  one  old  Frenchman,  speaking  of 
our  insular  ways.  "  You  weave  and  you  spin,  you  steam 
and  you  hammer,  you  eat  and  you  drink,  at  the  rate  of 
so  many  horse-power;  but  to  enjoy  your  life,  that  is 
what  you  do  not  understand  !  " 

Gambling,  though  recognized  by  the  Government  in 
France,  is  strictly  controlled. 

Under  the  French  law  public  play  is  prohibited  at 
casinos  within  a  radius  of  100  kilometres  from  Paris. 
Of  course  a  good  deal  of  illicit  gaming  goes  on  in  that  city. 
At  one  time,  indeed,  the  authorities  were  seriously  per- 
turbed at  the  large  increase  of  so-called  Parisian  gambling 
clubs  entirely  devoted  to  single  tableau  baccarat  known 
as  "La  Faucheuse,"  a  game  from  which  an  enormous 
harvest  of  gold  is  easily  gathered  by  those  holding  the 
bank.  It  was  said  that  no  less  than  126  new  establish- 
ments of  this  kind  had  sprung  up,  a  state  of  affairs 
calculated  to  make  the  dead  proprietors  of  the  long- 
suppressed  and  very  strictly  regulated  tables  in  the  old 
Palais  Royal  turn  in  their  graves.  Many  of  these 
clubs  were  frequented  by  women,  and  a  number  of  the 
brightest  stars  of  the  French  demi-monde  lost  almost 
everything  they  had.  The  casino  at  Enghien,  recently 
closed  under  the  law  mentioned  above,  was  notoriously 
disastrous  to  these  ladies. 

From  time  to  time  efforts  have  been  made  to  revive 
public  gaming  in  Paris  itself. 

During  the  Second  Empire,  Doctor  Louis  Veron, 
ex-dealer  in  quack  medicines,  ex-manager  of  the  Grand 


176      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Opera,  and  ex-proprietor  of  the  Constitutionnel  news- 
paper, offered  an  enormous  royalty  to  Government  for  the 
privilege  of  establishing  a  gambling-house  in  Paris.  The 
Emperor  Napoleon  III,  however,  declined  to  consider 
the  proposal. 

It  was,  of  course,  the  suppression  of  the  gaming  tables 
under  Louis  Philippe  which  began  the  decadence  of  the 
Palais  Royal,  which  every  year  grows  more  derelict  and 
dismal. 

There  is  nothing  left,  indeed,  to  remind  the  visitor  that 
the  place  was  once  known  as  "  the  Devil's  Drawing-room  ' 
it  being  said  that  here  a  debauchee  could  run  the  whole 
course  of  his  career  with  the  greatest  facility  and  ease. 

On  the  first  floor  were  cafes  where  his  spirits  could 
be  raised  to  any  requisite  pitch  ;  on  the  second,  gaming- 
rooms  where  he  could  lose  his  money,  and  saloons  devoted 
to  facile  love — both,  not  unusually,  ante-chambers  to  the 
pawnbrokers  who  resided  above ;  whilst,  if  at  the  end  of 
his  tether  and  determined  to  end  his  troubles,  he  could 
repair  to  some  of  the  shops  on  the  ground  floor,  where 
daggers  and  pistols  were  very  conveniently  sold  at  reduced 
prices — every  facility  being  thus  provided  for  enjoying  all 
the  pleasures  of  life  under  one  roof. 

Especially  celebrated  were  the  Galeries  de  Bois,  the 
resort  of  all  lovers  of  careless  gaiety  during  the  Directory, 
the  Consulate,  the  First  Empire,  and  the  Restoration. 
In  1815  these  galleries  were  nicknamed,  owing  to  the 
extensive  Muscovite  patronage  which  they  enjoyed, 
"  Le  Camp  des  Tartares." 

Duringthe  occupation  of  Paris,  Blucher  was  an  assiduous 
frequenter  of  these  gaming  tables.  A  contemporary 
writer  describing  the  rough  old  soldier's  methods  said  : 
"  He  posts  his  servant  in  the  ante-room,  with  his  pockets 
full  of  gold,  and  the  old  field-marshal  trots  backwards  and 
forwards  between  the  ante-room  and  the  green  table 
until  he  has  lost  his  last,  his  very  last,  crown,  when  he 
withdraws  noisily,  swearing  like  a  trooper,  insulting  the 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  177 

croupiers,  and  cursing  France  and  the  French  in  his 
abominable  Teuton  patois." 

At  one  famous  gaming-house  alone — No.  113  in  the 
Palais  Royal — Bliicher  lost  no  less  than  six  million  francs, 
the  result  being  that  at  his  departure  all  his  estates  were 
mortgaged. 

Ever  afterwards,  it  is  said,  he  would  explode  with  rage 
whenever  the  name  of  Paris  was  mentioned  ! 

The  Palais  Royal  was  built  in  imitation  of  the  Piazza 
San  Marco  at  Venice  by  Cardinal  Richelieu  and  bequeathed 
by  him  to  Louis  XIII.  The  palace  in  question  was  in 
course  of  time  given  by  the  Roi  Soleil  to  his  brother  and 
thus  became  the  property  of  the  Orleans  family.  Fan- 
tastically extravagant  and  crippled  by  debts,  Philippe 
Egalite  first  conceived  the  idea  of  putting  the  noble 
building  raised  by  the  great  Cardinal  to  a  commercial 
use,  continuing  to  obtain  a  very  large  sum  by  letting  out 
suitable  parts  as  shops,  gaming-houses,  and  restaurants. 

Louis  XVI.  is  said,  after  hearing  of  his  cousin's  decision 
in  this  matter,  to  have  remarked  :  "I  suppose  we  shall 
now  only  see  the  Due  d'Orleans  on  Sunday — he  has 
become  a  shopman  !  " 

To-day  there  is  something  pathetic  about  the  old 
gardens  where  one  summer's  day  Camille  Desmoulins 
uttered  those  burning  words  which  heralded  the  approach 
of  the  Revolution. 

From  the  windows  of  the  Palace  itself,  in  July  1830, 
did  the  son  of  Philippe  Egalite  look  hopefully,  yet 
half-fearfully,  down  on  the  Parisian  mob,  yelling  and 
triumphant,  which  after  storming  the  Louvre  and  sacking 
the  Tuileries,  came  screeching  the  Marseillaise,  roaring 
"  Vive  la  Charte  !  "  "  Vive  la  Republique  !  "  "  Vive 
Lafayette  !  "  and  most  portentous  of  all  for  him,  "  Vive 
Louis  Philippe  !  "  The  last  cry  won  the  day  ;  and  Louis 
Philippe,  Duke  of  Orleans,  went  forth  from  the  Palais 
Royal  to  become  the  Citizen  King. 

Later  on,  however,  the  monarch  in  question  became 
12 


178      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

highly  unpopular,  receiving  among  other  nicknames  that 
of  Riflard,  "old  umbrella" — a  reference  to  an  old  umbrella 
of  enormous  size  which  he  used  to  carry  at  the  time  when 
he  affected  the  simple  manners  of  the  bourgeoisie  and 
tried  to  curry  favour  with  the  shopkeepers. 

Various  schemes  have  from  time  to  time  been  mooted 
with  the  idea  of  reviving  the  glories  of  a  spot  which  was 
once  the  incarnation  of  Paris  in  the  eyes  of  all  pleasure- 
loving  Europe,  but  at  present  nothing  seems  likely  to  be 
done. 

If  the  Parisians  are  denied  the  roulette,  trente  et 
quarante,  and  other  games  popular  with  their  forbears 
they  can  bet  to  their  heart's  content  on  the  races  which 
every  day  are  held  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of 
Paris. 

Sunday  at  Longchamp  or  Auteuil  is  the  favourite  day, 
but  since  the  war,  even  on  ordinary  days,  the  number  of 
people  frequenting  racecourses  round  the  city  has  greatly 
increased,  while  a  far  greater  sum  than  before  the  war 
passes  through  the  Pari  Mutuel. 

The  racecourses  at  St  Ouen,  Colombes,  Vesinet,  and 
one  or  two  other  places  have  ceased  to  exist,  but  racegoers 
have  been  more  than  compensated  by  the  establishment 
of  new  and  finer  courses  at  Le  Tremblay  and  St  Cloud, 
the  latter  of  which  was  founded  by  the  late  Monsieur 
Edmond  Blanc,  the  greatest  sporting  figure  on  the  French 
Turf  since  Count  Lagrange  and  Lord  Henry  Seymour. 

The  Grand  Prix  in  the  'eighties,  though  attended  by  a 
great  number  of  Parisians  and  visitors,  was  nothing  like 
so  crowded  as  it  is  to-day,  when  to  obtain  a  view  of  the 
race  except  from  the  reserved  stand  or  a  private  box  is 
almost  impossible.  Those  were  the  days  when  every 
pretty  woman  looked  forward  to  sporting  a  new  dress  for 
the  Grand  Prix  which  would  be  seen  to  full  advantage 
during  the  drive  back  through  the  Avenue  des  Acacias — 
a  drive  which  in  a  way  was  a  relic  of  the  Promenade  de 
Longchamp  of  the  eighteenth  century. 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  179 

Then  came  the  evening,  with  a  joyous  dinner  and  more 
joyous  supper  prolonged  into  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning  with  songs  and  toasts  in  honour  not  only  of  le 
beau  sexe  des  deux  hemispheres,  mais  les  deux  hemispheres 
d'u  beau  sexe. 

The  institution  of  the  Pan  Mutuel  some  thirty  years 
ago  was  not  unattended  by  disturbance. 

For  about  a  fortnight  after  the  bookmakers  had  been 
suppressed  there  was  violent  excitement  on  the  race- 
courses, in  the  vicinity  of  which  large  bodies  of  troops 
were  posted. 

The  races  were  run  amidst  some  disorder,  owing  to 
the  dissatisfaction  of  the  mob,  and  M.  Goblet,  who  was 
Minister  for  the  Interior,  was  reported  to  be  in  hiding 
from  fear  of  assassination. 

Directly  the  Government  betting  booths  were  installed 
everything  quieted  down,  especially  as  book  betting  was 
more  or  less  allowed  within  a  certain  enclosure. 

This,  however,  has  long  been  done  away  with,  while 
the  public  have  grown  quite  content  to  make  their 
wagers  through  the  mutuels,  the  large  profits  of  which 
are  devoted  to  racing  purposes,  relief  of  taxation,  and 
charity. 

The  whole  system  works  well,  but  owing  to  the  larger 
percentage  levied  since  the  war,  the  odds  are  now  not 
infrequently  less  than  those  a  bookmaker  would  be 
ready  to  lay. 

This,  however,  seems  in  no  way  to  deter  the  public, 
which  goes  racing  in  far  larger  numbers  than  it  did 
before  the  war. 

The  beginnings  of  French  racing  in  the  'forties  of  the 
last  century  were  very  primitive,  races  in  the  early  part 
of  the  nineteenth  century  being  run  on  the  Champ-de- 
Mars,  the  course  marked  out  by  ropes  passing  close  to 
the  "  6cole  Militaire."  A  body  of  cavalry  kept  order 
among  the  spectators,  who  did  not  understand  much 
about  what  was  going  on. 


180      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Matches,  and  even  sweepstakes,  were  run  in  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne,  but  these  were  entirely  private  affairs  and 
not  public  race  meetings. 

Such  betting  as  went  on  was  light,  five  hundred  francs 
being  considered  a  big  bet.  Nevertheless  the  French 
sportsmen  of  that  vanished  era  often  spoke  of  having 
lost  or  won  five  hundred  louis,  but  this  was  a  convention 
well  understood  by  those  who  were  in  the  swim. 

The  usual  place  where  they  met  to  run  their  horses 
was  the  "  Butte-Mortemart,"  a  spot  on  what  is  now 
Auteuil  racecourse,  which  was  completely  changed  by  the 
erection  of  an  artificial  mound  formed  out  of  the  earth 
excavated  to  make  the  two  lakes. 

The  first  regular  meetings  of  any  serious  importance 
were  those  held  at  Chantilly  in  1834  and  I835,  the  prix 
du  Jockey  Club  being  first  run  in  1836. 

In  1842  no  one  could  have  foreseen  the  development 
of  French  racing — indeed,  a  writer  in  connection  with 
the  sale  of  Lord  Henry  Seymour's  horses,  after  his 
withdrawal  from  the  Turf  in  a  huff,  said,  "  The  sport  of 
racing  once  more  goes  back  to  the  other  side  of  the 
Channel,  not  having  been  able  to  popularize  itself 
among  us." 

Lord  Henry  Seymour,  who  may  be  regarded  as 
the  founder  of  the  French  turf,  was  really,  it  is  said, 
the  son  of  a  well-known  French  viveur  —  Count 
Casimir  de  Montrond  —  and  not  of  Lord  Hertford 
(Thackeray's  Lord  Steyne),  which  may  account  for  his 
never  having  shown  the  least  wish  to  set  foot  in 
England. 

Montrond,  who  had  been  a  lover  of  Princess  Pauline 
Borghese,  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Talleyrand,  with 
whom  he  used  to  exchange  epigrams,  for  he  was  a 
clever  man  with  a  very  caustic  tongue.  Being  bored 
with  an  acquaintance,  who  was  vaunting  the  charms 
of  his  fiancee,  a  girl  born  out  of  wedlock,  Montrond 
said :  "  To  hear  you  speak,  my  dear  fellow,  one  would 


PARIS  AFTER  THE  WAR  181 

think  you  were  going  to  marry  somebody's  supernatural 
daughter." 

Lord  Henry  Seymour  may  have  inherited  this  cynical 
tendency.  "Be  so  good,  my  dear  lady/'  wrote  he  to  one 
of  his  mistresses,  "as  to  put  my  boots  outside  the  door 
— they  will  do  the  same  for  you  one  of  these  days." 

One  of  his  favourite  escapades  as  a  young  man  was 
to  get  hold  of  some  cabman  and  by  means  of  a  heavy 
tip  get  leave  to  do  as  he  liked. 

This  done,  in  the  cabman's  coat  and  hat  he  would 
drive  his  cab  at  lightning  speed  through  the  streets, 
hitching  against  all  sorts  of  vehicles  on  the  way  and 
infuriating  everybody. 

When  at  last  this  mad  progress  was  arrested,  Lord 
Henry  would  escape  in  the  scuffle,  leaving  the  real  driver, 
whom  he  usually  put  inside,  to  explain  matters  to  the 
police. 

This  eccentric  if  sporting  nobleman  liked  playing 
unpleasant  jokes.  Having  bought  a  beautiful  villa  from 
Arsene  Houssaye,  he  asked  the  latter  and  his  little  son 
to  a  lunch  at  which  one  of  the  dishes  was  composed 
of  the  pet  gold-fish  from  a  little  pond  in  the  grounds. 
Young  Houssaye  was  much  distressed  at  this  cruel 
pleasantry.  Lord  Henry  Seymour,  like  the  poor  gold- 
fish, seems  to  have  been  lacking  in  taste. 


X 

CAF£S  WITHOUT  CANT 

BEFORE   the   war   certain   cafes   were   identified 
with  literature  and  the  drama. 
The  Cafe  Pousset  on  the  Boulevard,  for  instance, 
was  at  one  time  a  great  meeting-place  after  rehearsals. 
Here    might   be   seen    Catulle    Mendes   surrounded   by 
an  admiring  crowd,  and  M.  Antoine  with  his  favourite 
actors  and  authors. 

The  frequenters  all  knew  one  another  well,  and  con- 
versation flew  from  table  to  table. 

In  London  there  has  never  existed  anything  like  the 
Bohemian  assemblies  held  by  little  coteries  of  writers 
and  artists  in  Montmartre  and  the  Quartier  Latin. 

A  certain  studio  having  become  a  meeting-place  for 
such  men,  remains  open  at  all  hours,  everyone  coming 
and  going  as  he  chooses. 

Wine  and  food  are  contributed  by  the  frequenters. 
One  man  sings  songs  of  his  own  composition,  while 
another  improvises  an  accompaniment. 

Budding  authors  recite  their  verse  and  prose. 

Artists  decorate  the  interior  of  the  place  with  their 
sketches — often  clever. 

Girls  with  their  lovers,  models  from  other  studios,  a 
minor  actress  or  two,  give  the  required  note  of  femininity 
to  the  gathering.  The  whole  thing  constitutes  a  real 
"  Liberty  Hall,"  everyone  doing  and  saying  exactly 
what  he  pleases. 

Prudery  and  stupidity  are  under  a  severe  ban. 

It  was  a  meeting-place  of  this  description  which 
originally  furnished  the  idea  of  the  "  Chat  Noir," 


CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT  183 

a  resort  founded  by  Rodolphe  Sails  in  1881  in  a  house 
on  the  Boulevard  Rochechouart. 

His  first  intention  seems  to  have  been  to  make  the 
place  his  studio,  for  he  was  an  artist  before  he  took  to 
keeping  a  cabaret. 

His  Bohemian  friends  came  there  to  recite  then-  poems 
and  sing  old  songs,  and  one  of  them  conceived  the  idea 
of  admitting  the  public  to  the  rooms  which  the  little 
band  had  decorated  with  sketches  and  pictures. 

At  first,  songs  were  only  sung  on  Friday  nights,  but, 
owing  to  the  great  success  they  achieved,  the  place  *vas 
soon  opened  every  evening. 

After  four  years  the  "  Chat  Noir,"  the  name  of  which 
Salis  is  said  to  have  taken  from  one  of  Edgar  Poe's  tales, 
was  moved  to  the  Rue  Laval,  and  to  the  new  house 
flocked  all  artistic  Paris. 

Here  in  the  'eighties  and  early  'nineties  talented 
Bohemians  sang  amusing  songs  of  their  own  composition, 
and  here,  too,  was  given  the  famous  series  of  "  Ombres 
Chinoises,"  the  little  shadow-show  which  depicted  various 
incidents  connected  with  the  Grande  Armee  and  its 
great  leader  Napoleon. 

One  of  the  cleverest  singers  was  a  writer  called  Macnab, 
said  to  be  of  Scotch  descent,  a  man  of  extraordinary 
appearance,  something  between  a  clown  and  an  under- 
taker, who  sang  most  amusing  songs  written  by  himself. 

Another  great  supporter  of  the  "  Chat  Noir "  was 
Emile  Goudeau,  a  writer  and  poet,  also  well  known  in 
the  Quartier  Latin,  who  wrote  some  delightful  lines  to 
the  Muse  of  Montmartre  in  1897. 

"  Que  1'homme  de  pinceau  que  I'homme  de  la  lyre, 
Que  le  reveur  en  proie  au  rythme  qui  delire, 
Que  le  passant  quelconque  accable  par  1'ennui, 
Que  le  desespere  pleurant  1'amour  enfui, 
Que  tous  enfin  :  les  grands,  les  petits,  et  les  mievres, 
Puissent  en  te  voyant  oublier  quelles  fidvres 
Les  torturent  et  quels  remords  ou  repentirs  ! 
O  vierge  de  Montmartre,  O  Muse  des  martyrs." 


184      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

An  album  kept  in  the  house  contained  contributions 
from  all  the  most  famous  writers  and  artists  of  the  day, 
while  black  cats  in  all  sorts  of  quaint  situations  were 
to  be  seen  on  the  walls,  but  in  addition  to  these,  there 
were  other  paintings  of  very  great  merit. 

Not  many  foreigners  went  to  the  Chat  Noir ;  it  was 
never  indeed  a  cosmopolitan  resort  like  some  of  the 
cabarets  which  sprang  up  after  it  had  ceased  to  exist. 
There  was  no  garish  glitter  about  it ;  indeed,  as  far 
as  the  present  writer  recollects,  a  rather  semi-religious 
air  prevaded  the  place,  which,  though  quite  modern,  had 
an  air  of  antiquity,  produced,  no  doubt,  by  the  cleverness 
of  those  responsible  for  its  adornment. 

Though  the  Chat  Noir  achieved  a  great  artistic  success, 
as  it  deserved  to  do  considering  the  enthusiasm  and 
genius  of  its  founders,  it  did  not  last  many  years. 

Unique  in  its  way,  it  was  of  necessity  but  an  ephemeral 
manifestation  of  a  certain  side  of  literature  and  art. 

After  the  disappearance  of  the  Chat  Noir,  a  cabaret, 
presided  over  by  Aristide  Bruant,  a  rather  talented 
writer,  who  wrote  and  sang  his  own  songs,  achieved  a 
good  deal  of  success.  A  number  of  his  compositions 
were  extremely  clever,  and  as  rendered  by  Yvette  Guilbert 
struck  a  highly  original  note. 

Among  these  the  most  noteworthy  were  "A  la 
Roquette  "  and  "  Au  Bois  de  Boulogne." 

It  was  Verlaine  who  first  invented  the  style  of  song 
which  made  the  reputation  of  Aiistide  Bruant  and  his 
cabaret. 

This  strange  individual,  who,  as  is  well  known,  besides 
being  a  real  poet  was  a  man  of  most  dissipated  life, 
delighted  in  getting  a  friend  to  accompany  him  to  the 
halls  and  low  cabarets  frequented  by  Apaches  and  their 
ladies. 

Being  himself  of  somewhat  disreputable  appearance 
he  was  able  to  do  this  without  much  danger. 

Much  struck  with  the  strange  and  brutal  life  led  by 


CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT  185 

the  people  in  these  haunts,  he  wrote  and  talked  about 
them,  with  the  result  that  in  the  end  the  Apache  became 
quite  a  popular  figure. 

Aristide  Bruant,  following  the  lead  given  by  Verlaine, 
wrote  songs  about  the  Parisian  underworld  which 
betrayed  a  very  accurate  and  original  outlook  upon 
certain  phases  of  Parisian  life,  as  was  recognized  by 
many  artistic  people. 

The  curious  collection  which  the  Chat  Noir  contained 
was  eventually  sold  at  the  Hotel  Drouot,  where  the  sale 
attracted  great  attention.  The  catalogue,  now  very 
much  sought  after,  revealed  a  great  number  of  artistic 
treasures,  among  which  were  valuable  pictures  and 
sketches  by  famous  artists. 

One  splendid  composition  by  Willette,  "  Le  Cavalier 
de  la  Mort,"  was  dedicated  to  the  King  of  Prussia.  In 
this,  Death  draped  in  crape  on  a  wretched,  blood-stained 
horse  rides  in  front  of  some  French  cavalry  with  the 
tri-colour  half  concealed  by  a  mist.  On  the  horizon  is 
seen  the  setting  sun. 

The  same  artist  was  also  responsible  for  four  panels 
representing  "  Le  Moulin  de  la  Galette." 

Willette,  the  creator  of  so  many  delightful  studies  of 
pierrots,  and  an  artist  of  highly  original  talent,  may  be 
said  to  have  caught  the  very  spirit  of  Montmartre. 

The  painter  of  an  admirable  panel  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville, 
he  remains  the  representative  of  a  whole  generation  of 
joyous  Bohemians,  so  many  of  whom,  alas,  with  little  but 
a  smile  on  their  lips  have  long  ago  fallen  by  the  wayside. 

The  poet  Verlaine  delighted  in  Montmartre,  where 
he  had  many  friends.  The  Cabaret  du  Clou,  Avenue 
Trudaine,  was  one  of  his  haunts,  the  Divan  Japon  was 
another,  but  best  of  all  he  loved  the  Chat  Noir,  where  he 
was  sure  to  find  his  brother-in-law,  Charles  de  Sivry,  a 
talented  musician  and  expert  in  musical  parody,  who 
presided  at  the  piano,  and  his  charming  niece,  Claudine, 
who  always  gave  him  an  enthusiastic  welcome. 


186      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

As  a  man  Verlaine  was  utterly  impossible.  Besides 
being  a  devotee  of  absinthe,  he  often  drank  to  excess, 
when  his  behaviour  was  apt  to  become  outrageous. 
Though  he  appears  really  to  have  been  in  love  with  his 
wife — a  pretty  young  girl  whom  he  married  before  the 
war  of  1870— during  the  latter  portion  of  his  life  he  con- 
sorted with  women  of  the  lowest  class ;  indeed,  one  of 
the  last  of  his  mistresses  was  a  degraded  creature  whose 
real  lover  was  an  Apache.  The  latter,  curiously  enough, 
was  rather  proud  of  the  woman's  connection  with  the 
poet,  and  at  bars  which  he  frequented  used  to  warn  the 
company  what  he  would  do  to  anyone  who  might  dare 
to  molest  Verlaine. 

Besides  this,  the  poet  had  been  in  prison  more  than 
once,  the  first  time  for  violence  towards  his  mother, 
who,  with  good  reason,  had  declined  to  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  him. 

Nevertheless,  owing  to  his  great  intellectual  gifts, 
the  Parisians,  especially  those  who  loved  art  and  letters, 
always  retained  a  feeling  of  admiration  for  him,  looking 
leniently  upon  his  squalid  extravagances. 

The  Prefect  of  Police,  for  instance,  instructed  the 
police  in  the  Latin  Quarter  where  the  poet  lived  to  try 
and  keep  him  out  of  trouble — under  no  circumstances 
were  they  to  arrest  him. 

Only  in  a  city  like  Paris,  where  artistic  genius  really 
does  cover  a  multitude  of  sins,  could  this  have  occurred. 

Finally,  when  Verlaine  died  of  an  illness  mainly  pro- 
duced by  his  own  excesses,  many  people  prominent  in  the 
world  of  literature  and  art  followed  him  to  the  grave. 

Verlaine  began  life  as  an  official  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville, 
which,  under  Baron  Haussmann,  had  quite  a  number  of 
writers  and  poets  on  its  staff. 

Henri  Rochefort  was  one,  Georges  Lafenestre,  Armand 
Renaud,  Leon  Valade,  and  Albert  Merat,  others,  the  last 
four  being  poets  who  attained  some  literary  celebrity 
in  their  day. 


CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT  187 

The  Cafe  du  Gaz,  Rue  de  Rivoli,  was  the  meet- 
ing place  of  these  young  men,  who  discussed  poetry 
there. 

During  the  siege  of  Paris  Verlaine  became  a  soldier, 
but  did  little  beyond  occasionally  joining  his  comrades 
in  drinking  bouts.  Finally,  owing  to  ill-health  he  was  told 
to  go  back  to  his  work  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  here 
he  remained  during  the  Commune  instead  of  going  to 
join  the  Government  forces  at  Versailles. 

After  the  defeat  of  the  Communists  he  left  Paris,  and 
when  in  course  of  time  he  applied  to  be  reinstated  in 
his  post,  he  was  told  that  as  he  had  consented  to  serve 
under  the  Revolutionaries  he  could  not  be  employed 
again. 

Verlaine's  letters  from  London,  where  he  resided  for 
some  time  in  the  'seventies,  are  full  of  original  if  frank 
observation. 

He  was  struck  by  the  inferiority  of  the  restaurants, 
the  smallness  of  the  houses,  and  the  multitude  of  beggars 
in  rags,  all  three  of  which  are  now  more  or  less  things  of 
the  past. 

English  hypocrisy  and  Sabbatarian  cant  aroused  his 
bitterest  scorn,  but  the  theatres  he  did  not  think  so  bad. 

Verlaine's  opinion  of  English  women,  if  original,  was 
scarcely  flattering.  "  They  are,"  he  said,  in  a  letter  to 
a  friend,  "  very  pretty,  walk  like  ducks,  talk  like  sailors, 
and  never  change  their  chemises." 

The  young  girls,  he  declared,  were  generally  good-look- 
ing, well-dressed,  though  without  taste,  and  apparently 
not  prudish. 

The  drunkenness  (against  which,  he  noted,  ridiculous 
Bills  were  always  being  passed)  was  unlimited. 

On  the  whole,  London  compared  to  Brussels  or  Paris 
appeared  to  him  provincial,  but  the  Thames  with  its 
Babylonian  bridges  he  thought  superb. 

In  after  years  he  came  again  to  England  and  became 
a  master  at  the  Stickney  Grammar  School,  Boston, 


188      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Lincolnshire — a  queer  enough  spot  to  harbour  a 
Bohemian  from  Montmartre  ! 

At  Stickney  he  taught  French,  Latin,  and  drawing 
for  a  year  and  a  half,  apparently  quite  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  Headmaster.  At  this  period  of  his 
life  he  appears  to  have  lived  quietly  absorbed  by  his 
tutorial  duties.  His  muse  slumbered,  for  he  wrote  no 
poetry  at  all. 

After  a  brief  return  to  France  he  returned  to  Stickney, 
this  time  with  an  idea  of  giving  private  lessons,  which, 
however,  brought  him  in  little,  for  shortly  afterwards 
he  became  a  master  at  a  school  at  Bournemouth. 

Here  he  wrote  a  good  deal  of  verse,  including  portions 
of  "  Sagesse,"  which  contains  a  poem  "  La  Mer  de 
Bournemouth." 

Verlaine's  new-born  and  intense  enthusiasm  for 
Catholicism,  after  spending  two  years  in  a  Belgian  prison 
for  the  attempted  murder  of  his  friend  Rimbaud,  has 
been  well  dealt  with  in  a  recent  work.1  It  does  not, 
however,  seem  to  have  been  entirely  religion  which  in 
1878  led  him  to  become  a  professor  in  an  ecclesiastical 
college  at  Rethel,  where,  in  addition  to  teaching  French 
literature,  he  gave  lessons  in  English. 

Though  fairly  proficient  in  that  language  his  accent 
left  a  good  deal  to  be  desired.  This  his  Bohemian  friend 
and  fellow  poet,  Mallarme,  at  that  time  himself  a  teacher 
of  English  in  a  Parisian  lycee,  knew. 

The  latter,  indeed,  would  chaff  Verlaine  upon  the 
latter's  linguistic  deficiencies,  declaring  that  the  pupils 
at  Rethel  were  imbibing  the  English  accent  as  heard  on 
the  cafe  concert  stage,  "  Aoh  !  comente  vo  nomez  colla  !  " 
and  so  forth. 

Verlaine,  curiously  enough,  easily  gained  the  esteem 
of  the  ecclesiastics  who  supervised  the  college  of  Notre 
Dame  de  Rethel.  At  first  they  thought  him  rather 
reserved,  but  later  on  became  fairly  intimate  with  thi 

1  "Verlaine,"  by  Harold  Nicholson  (Constable). 


CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT  189 

confirmed  Bohemian,  whose  stormy  past  at  that  time 
they  entirely  ignored. 

When  they  did  hear  of  it  years  later,  to  their  credit 
be  it  recorded,  they  were  neither  scandalized  nor  annoyed. 

In  1897  a  number  of  old  pupils  organized  a  banquet 
in  honour  of  their  old  professor,  at  the  end  of  which  a 
eulogy  of  Verlaine's  genius  was  recited  by  one  of  them 
who  had  himself  become  a  writer. 

The  poet,  it  should  be  added,  left  the  College  from 
no  other  cause  than  his  own  inclination.  His  conduct 
there  had  been  exemplary,  and  when  he  suddenly  deter- 
mined to  take  up  farming,  everyone,  priests  as  well  as 
boys,  wished  him  good  luck. 

Agriculture,  however,  did  not  attract  him  for  long, 
and  in  the  early  'eighties  Verlaine  was  once  more  leading 
a  Bohemian  life  in  Paris.  In  1883,  however,  he  once 
more  betook  himself  to  the  Ardennes,  where  for  a  couple 
of  years  he  may  be  described  as  having  led  the  life  of  a 
sort  of  amateur  peasant.  After  a  couple  of  years,  how- 
ever, having  indulged  in  all  sorts  of  excesses,  spent  his 
mother's  money  and  generally  scandalized  the  country- 
side by  his  drunken  and  dissolute  life,  he  once  more 
returned  to  Paris. 

Every  afternoon  towards  the  end  of  his  life  Verlaine 
might  be  seen  drinking  absinthe  at  the  Cafe  Voltaire, 
which,  in  the  'nineties,  was  the  resort  of  many  liteiary 
men  as  well  as  of  Senators  from  the  Luxemburg  close  by. 

He  seldom,  however,  remained  there  beyond  a  certain 
hour;  if  he  did,  a  grim-looking  female,  resembling  a 
washerwoman  in  appearance,  would  come  in  after  him 
and  take  him  away. 

Nevertheless,  the  female  in  question,  whose  real  name 
was  Eugenie  Krantz,  had  been  one  of  the  stars  of  the 
Bal  Bullier  in  the  days  of  the  Second  Empire,  when  as 
a  cocotte  she  had  achieved  some  celebrity  under  the 
soubriquet  of  "  Ninie  Mouton." 

She  had  known  Gambetta,  Jules  Valles  and  all  the 


190      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

political  and  literary  frequenters  of  the  Cafe  Procope. 
This  woman  was  indeed  very  proud  of  her  souvenirs  of 
celebrated  men — for  a  time  she  had  been  the  mistress 
of  the  French  politician  who  contrived  the  fall  of  General 
Boulanger. 

When  Verlaine  met  her,  however,  she  was  in  very  low 
water,  being  only  able  to  support  herself  by  doing  work 
for  the  great  Paris  store  of  la  Belle  Jardiniere. 

Though  she  behaved  badly  to  the  poet,  making  him 
work  hard  and  taking  the  result  of  his  labour  while 
systematically  deceiving  him,  it  was  solely  due  to  her 
that  he  was  able  to  draw  his  last  breath  in  a  room  of 
his  own  instead  of  expiring  a  mere  number  in  one  of  the 
caravanserais  of  death  of  the  great  capital. 

Eugenie  Krantz  well  understood  the  value  of  her 
improvident  and  dissipated  lover's  efforts.  She  kept 
every  scrap  of  paper  on  which  he  had  scribbled,  and  after 
his  death  sold  a  number  of  manuscripts  to  his  friends. 
She  died  a  year  after  her  lover. 

In  his  last  years  Verlaine  ceased  to  frequent  the  Cafe" 
Voltaire  and  went  to  the  Soleil  D'Or,  where  on  Saturdays 
the  assemblages  known  as  "  Soirees  de  la  Plume  "  drew 
together  a  number  of  ultra-modernist  writers  and  artists. 

The  Cafe  du  Procope  was  also  one  of  the  last  haunts 
of  the  poets.  Here  on  the  first  floor  recitations  and 
songs  were  sometimes  to  be  heard ;  little  plays  were  also 
given. 

A  favourite  quotation  from  Michelet  which  Verlaine 
loved  to  quote — not  always  correctly — was  "  The  French 
Revolution  was  made  in  a  cafe,"  an  allusion  to  the 
meeting  of  philosophers,  writers,  nobles,  free-thinkers 
and  radicals  at  the  Cafe  Procope. 

When  a  bust  of  Henri  Miirger  was  put  up  in  the 
Luxembourg  Gardens,  an  official  banquet  at  six  francs 
a  head  took  place  at  the  Cafe  Voltaire,  as  a  protest 
against  which  an  opposition  banquet  of  real  Bohemians 
at  two  francs  a  head  took  place  at  the  "  Procope." 


CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT  191 

Verlaine  was  too  ill  to  go  but  sent  a  letter  warmly 
congratulating  the  company  upon  having  arranged  that 
impecunious  Bohemians  unable  to  afford  six  francs  should 
be  able  to  do  honour  to  Miirger,  whose  memory  really 
belonged  to  the  Cafe  Procope,  which  had  always  been 
the  resort  of  himself  and  his  friends. 

Verlaine,  who  was  a  votary  of  la  vierge  verte — the 
terrible  absinthe — at  one  time  frequented  a  cafe  called 
1' Academic,  where  it  had  formerly  been  customary 
whenever  a  member  of  the  French  Academy  died  to 
drape  one  of  the  forty  barrels  lining  the  walls  with 
cre"pe.  In  1895,  however,  when  only  a  few  literary 
men,  including  the  poet,  went  to  this  place  the  tradition 
had  lapsed.  A  year  or  two  later  1' Academic,  which 
had  been  founded  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
ceased  to  exist,  the  premises  being  converted  into  a 
butcher's  shop. 

L' Academic  was  a  veritable  temple  dedicated  to 
absinthe,  the  rather  sickly  smell  of  which  filled  the 
place,  which,  damp  and  dirty  as  it  was,  made  no  appeal 
to  those  who  were  not  votaries  of  the  insidious  green  drink. 

The  place,  the  ceiling  of  which,  like  most  of  the  com- 
pany, was  low,  of  course  derived  its  name  from  the  forty 
barrels  mentioned  above. 

This  cafe,  which  was  frequented  mainly  by  Bohemians 
down  at  heel,  dissolute  students  and  professors  who  had 
gone  to  the  bad,  was  well  known  to  well-to-do  but  idle 
young  men  anxious  to  pass  their  examinations  as  being 
a  place  where  they  could  get  essays  done  for  a  con- 
sideration ;  indeed,  a  number  of  the  frequenters  of 
"  1' Academic  "  made  their  living  by  doing  richer  men's 
work. 

During  the  Second  Empire  a  great  character  at  this 
cabaret,  which  was  situated  in  the  Rue  St  Jacques  in 
the  Quartier  Latin,  was  a  man  called  Parigot. 

This  individual  during  twelve  years  was  computed  to 
have  drunk  no  less  than  65,820  glasses  of  absinthe. 


192      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Parigot  was  very  popular  at  1'Academie  on  account 
of  his  amusing  conversation,  which  attracted  people  to 
the  place.  Appreciating  the  profit  he  had  realized 
through  this,  the  proprietor  of  this  cabaret,  when  he 
died,  left  instructions  in  his  will  that  the  old  man  was 
to  be  allowed  twelve  glasses  of  absinthe  a  day  during 
his  lifetime,  and  these  were  daily  served  to  Parigot  till 
he  died  several  years  later  aged  eighty  ! 

Absinthe  is  responsible  for  the  clouding  of  many  a 
clever  brain. 

In  former  days  Grassot,  the  Paul  Bedford  of  the  Palais 
Royal,  was  for  a  time  obliged  to  relinquish  his  profession, 
and  so  eclipsed  the  gaiety  of  nations,  by  yielding  to 
the  seductive  but  potent  influence  of  this  preparation. 
A  short  absence  in  Italy,  however,  restored  him  to  his 
admirers.  It  killed  poor  de  Musset  and  Gerard  de 
Nerval. 

Gerard  de  Nerval,  the  charming  writer,  the  delightful 
novelist,  having  sought  in  absinthe  brighter  fancies  and 
more  glowing  images,  ended  by  hanging  himself  in  the 
window  of  a  miserable  den.  Alfred  de  Musset,  a  great 
poet,  wounded  to  the  heart,  sought  in  this  terrible  poison 
forgetfulness  of  his  mysterious  sorrow,  with  the  result 
that  he  died  after  ten  years'  forgetfulness  of  his  genius 
— died  without  being  able  to  utter,  at  his  last  hour,  songs 
as  sublime  as  those  he  sang  in  his  bright  youth. 

"  The  effects  of  the  poison  are  terrible — crushing. 
A  feverish  ecstasy,  full  of  delicious  dreams,  of  wild 
inspirations,  is  followed  by  an  overwhelming  debility, 
a  continual  state  of  somnolency.  The  eyes  become 
dull  and  the  hands  tremble.  No  real  work  can  be 
done  unless  preceded  by  a  dram  of  absinthe.  Beneath 
these  ceaseless  attacks  reason  reels,  and  a  fatal  day 
comes  when  the  drinker  finds  drunkenness,  and  never 
again  finds  'inspiration.'  Then  he  is  lost  beyond  the  hope 
of  recovery.  What  was  a  necessary  prelude  to  his  labour 
becomes  a  degrading  passion,  a  daily  indulgence  which 


CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT  193 

he  has  not  the  courage  to  abandon.  The  poet  is  dead 
within  him,  and  the  drunkard  alone  remains." 

About  the  year  1892  a  certain  coterie  of  writers  from 
the  Latin  quarter  were  wont  to  frequent  a  low  restaurant 
in  the  Rue  de  la  Huchette. 

Here  all  sorts  of  vagabonds  assembled;  pickers-up 
of  cigar  ends,  street  vendors,  newsboys,  workmen  and 
souteneurs  came  there  to  obtain  cheap  meals.  A  portion 
of  meat  cost  twopence  and  vegetables  a  penny,  and  one 
might  bring  one's  own  bread. 

Clients  usually  drank  water,  but  those  who  wanted 
wine  could  get  it  in  a  room  apart. 

Everyone  helped  himself,  and  paid  for  his  portion  as 
he  took  it  from  a  cook.  Most  of  the  artistic  visitors 
came  to  this  place  as  an  experience,  but  some  were  no 
richer  than  the  regular  diners  at  la  Huchette. 

Before  the  war  many  of  the  women  who  frequented 
the  night  restaurants  were  victims  of  cocaine,  which 
they  seemed  able  to  procure  without  any  difficulty. 

At  present,  however,  determined  efforts  are  made 
to  stamp  out  this  disastrous  vice ;  in  any  case  the  evil 
activities  of  those  who  purvey  this  drug  appear  to  have 
been  checked.  The  sale  of  absinthe,  so  popular  with 
Frenchmen,  has  also  been  prohibited  throughout  France, 
absinthe  being  classed  as  a  decoction  disastrous  to  the 
national  health. 

Whether  the  latter  prohibition  will  be  effectual  is 
open  to  doubt.  Substitute  absinthe  can  be  obtained, 
and  it  would  not  be  surprising  if  eventually  the  sale  of 
the  real  thing  should  again  be  allowed. 

The  French,  unlike  the  modern  English,  abominate  all 
restrictions,  and  unpopular  laws  or  regulations  after  a  cer- 
tain time  are  apt  to  be  dropped,  or,  if  still  in  force,  ignored. 

Exclusive  of  places  like  the  Abbaye  de  Theleme,  which 
mainly  appeal  to  foreigners,  there  are  quite  a  number 
of  restaurants  in  Montmartre  where  good  food  is  to  be 
obtained,  such  as  "  Au  Bon  Vigneron,"  "  Place  Blanche," 

13 


194      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

"  l'H6tel  de  la  Poste,"  Rue  de  Douai,  "  Coconnier,"  Rue 
Lepic,  and  "1'Escargot,"  in  the  same  street.  At  all 
of  these,  prices  are  moderate.  "  Nirvana/1  a  nevrer 
restaurant  in  the  Rue  Fontaine,  is  more  expensive. 

The  French  have  always  been  believers  in  the  virtue 
of  good  food. 

"  Se  soigner  en  buvant  d'excellents  vins  et  en  man- 
geant  d'excellents  mets,  voila  la  bonne,  la  vraie  medica- 
tion !  "  said  Chatillon-Plessis. 

First-class  food,  however,  has  always  been  expensive 
in  Paris. 

As  far  back  as  1830  the  prices  charged  at  fashionable 
restaurants  evoked  protests. 

"  The  Boulevard  des  Italiens,"  said  a  victim,  "  is  the 
privileged  quarter  of  the  cafes-restaurants ;  there  one 
may  dine  excellently,  but  it  must  be  confessed  one  is 
cruelly  plucked.  From  this  fact  has  arisen  the  proverb, 
'  One  must  be  very  hardy  to  dine  at  the  Cafe  Riche, 
and  very  rich  to  dine  at  the  Cafe  Hardi.'  May  it  not 
be  added  that  one  needs  to  be  an  English  peer  to  dine 
at  the  Cafe  Anglais,  and  a  millionaire  Parisian  to  try  the 
Cafe  de  Paris  ?  One  may  dine  well  at  Very's,  but  one 
will  ruin  himself ;  while  the  fish  which  is  excellent  at 
the  Rocher  de  Cancale  is  scarcely  exchanged  for  its 
weight  in  five-franc  pieces." 

The  Cafe  de  Paris  mentioned  was,  of  course,  not  the 
well-known  establishment  in  ,+he  Avenue  de  1'Opera 
but  an  older  restaurant  on  the  Boulevard  frequented 
by  many  celebrated  people,  including  Alexandre  Dumas, 
who,  in  addition  to  being  known  as  the  author  of 
"  Monte  Cristo  "  and  "  The  Three  Musketeers,"  has  left 
an  illustrious  name  as  a  cook,  a  host,  and  an  epicure. 

Often  in  the  midst  of  a  dinner,  on  tasting  of  some 
novel  dish  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  Dumas  would  lay  down 
his  fork  and  ejaculate,  "  I  must  get  the  recipe  of  this 
dish."  The  proprietor  was  then  sent  for  to  authorise 
the  novelist  to  descend  to  the  kitchens  and  hold  a  con- 


CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT  195 

sultation  with  his  chefs.  He  was  the  only  one  of  the 
habitue's  to  whom  this  privilege  was  ever  allowed. 

Alfred  de  Musset  used  to  say  that  one  could  not  open 
the  door  of  the  Cafe  de  Paris  under  fifteen  francs.  Still, 
it  was  admitted  that  everyone  who  did  open  the  door 
was  treated  as  a  grand  seigneur  for  whom  nothing  could 
be  too  good.  When  Balzac  one  day  announced  the 
arrival  of  a  distinguished  Russian  friend,  he  asked  the 
proprietor  to  put  his  best  foot  forward.  "  Assuredly, 
Monsieur,  we  will  do  so,"  was  the  answer,  "  because  it 
is  simply  what  we  are  in  the  habit  of  doing  every 
day."  The  great  writer's  favourite  dish  was  veau  d 
la  casserole,  a  specialty  of  the  Cafe"  de  Paris  in  the 
'forties. 

Another  favourite  haunt  of  Alfred  de  Musset  was  the 
Cafe  de  la  Regence,  where  the  poet  continued  to  play 
chess  unmoved  while  troops  outside  fired  on  the  rioters 
in  1830. 

The  old  cafe  in  question,  once  known  also  as  the  Cafe 
de  la  Place  du  Palais  Royal,  was  destroyed  in  1852,  when 
a  new  one  was  established  in  the  Rue  Richelieu.  From 
here  it  eventually  migrated  to  the  Place  du  Theatre 
Frangais,  where  it  still  is. 

This  cafe",  which  is  frequented  by  the  actors  of  the 
Comedie  Fransais  and  people  going  to  that  theatre,  has, 
however,  little  in  common  with  the  original  establish- 
ment, which  was  renowned  for  being  a  great  meeting- 
place  for  lovers  of  chess. 

A  portrait  of  Philidor  adorned  its  walls,  while  there 
were  tables  which  had  been  used  by  Rousseau  and 
Voltaire.  Napoleon  came  there  as  a  young  officer  and, 
according  to  tradition,  was  not  only  a  bad  chess  player 
but  a  bad  loser,  who  would  almost  upset  the  table  after 
a  defeat. 

One  is  therefore  not  astonished  to  learn  that  later  on 
when  at  the  Tuileries,  even  against  first-class  opponents, 
he  always  won. 


196      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

One  of  the  few  who  continued  to  frequent  the  Cafe 
de  la  Regence  during  the  Terror  was  Robespierre. 

It  is  said  that  though,  like  Napoleon,  he  was  not  a 
first-class  player,  nevertheless  owing  to  the  fear  he 
inspired  he  very  seldom  lost.  People,  as  a  rule,  however, 
were  not  anxious  to  pit  themselves  against  him. 

Sitting  alone  one  evening  the  "sea-green  incorruptible" 
was  rather  surprised  to  see  a  very  handsome  young 
man  take  the  place  opposite  and  without  a  word  make 
a  preliminary  move.  Robespierre  did  the  same  and  a 
game,  which  his  opponent  won,  began. 

He  asked  for  his  revenge  and  was  again  beaten. 

"  You  are  too  much  for  me,"  said  he,  not  pleased. 
"  By  the  way,  what  were  we  playing  for  ?  " 

"  A  man's  head,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  won  it,  so  give 
it  me  quickly,  otherwise  the  executioner  will  have  it 
to-morrow." 

At  the  same  time  he  produced  an  order  for  the  liberation 
of  a  young  nobleman  imprisoned  in  the  conciergerie 
which  only  wanted  signing. 

This  Robespierre  affixed,  after  which  he  enquired: 
"  But  who  are  you,  citoyen  ?  " 

"  Citoyenne,  you  should  say.  I  am  a  woman,  the 
fiancee  of  the  prisoner.  Thank  you,  and  good-bye," 
and  the  brave  girl  ran  joyfully  away. 

In  modern  Paris  cafes  such  as  la  Regence,  which  had 
their  own  especial  clientele,  are  much  fewer  in  number. 
The  tendency  among  the  French,  indeed,  is  to  go  less  to 
restaurants  than  in  former  days — one  reason  being  that 
they  can  get  better  and  cheaper  fare  at  their  own  homes. 

As  long  ago  as  1879  Charles  Monselet  said :  "  Where 
are  the  great  cooks  ?  What  names  have  we  now  to 
oppose  to  those  of  Car£me  and  Robert  ?  Shall  I 
speak  of  official  cookery,  of  ministerial  dinners  ?  These 
are  not  the  dinners  to  which  people  go  to  eat.  There 
especially  the  cook  is  more  proud  of  a  Chinese  kiosk  on 
a  rock  in  coloured  and  spun  sugar,  which  no  person  dare 


CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT  197 

touch,  than  of  a  carp  a  la  Chambord  treated  in  a  masterly 
way.  Since  the  days  of  Cambaceres  official  cookery 
has  ceased  to  exist.  That  which  you  eat  yesterday  in 
the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  you  will  eat  to-morrow 
in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Honore.  At  the  end  of  the  week 
you  recognize  that  you  have  merely  changed  your  knife 
and  fork.  This  poverty  of  imagination,  this  absence 
of  research,  are  unworthy  of  a  country  such  as  ours." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  since  the  closing  of  the  Cafe 
Riche,  Maison  Doree,  and  Cafe  Anglaise,  cooking  in 
Paris  has  deteriorated. 

The  old-fashioned  waiters — veterans  of  the  time  of 
the  Second  Empire — have  also  disappeared. 

Before  the  war  a  few  were  still  to  be  seen,  so  old  that 
they  might  have  been  at  Marengo  when  the  historic 
poulet  was  first  fried  in  oil,  owing  to  Napoleon's  cook 
being  for  the  moment  short  of  butter. 

One  of  the  principal  reasons  for  the  indifferent  fare  pro- 
vided at  so-called  smart  restaurants  is  the  culinary  ignor- 
ance of  the  ever-increasing  horde  of  English  and  American 
visitors,  which  of  course  offers  great  temptations  for 
restaurateurs  to  foist  inferior  dishes  upon  their  clients. 

Other  reasons  are  the  decay  of  the  old  system  of 
apprenticeships  and  the  anonymity  of  chefs.  In  old 
days  the  names  of  certain  of  the  latter  were  well  known 
throughout  Paris  and  even  further  afield ;  to-day  very 
few  diners  ever  dream  of  enquiring  who  has  cooked  their 
dinner,  even  when  it  has  been  found  excellent. 

There  are,  it  is  true,  two  great  chefs  who  are  chevaliers 
of  the  Legion  of  Honour — MM.  Escoffier  and  Montaille 
— but  a  number  of  other  excellent  cooks  work  in  complete 
oblivion. 

A  restaurant,  however  small  or  humble,  which  boasts  a 
first-class  cook  never  fails  to  succeed,  and  very  quickly  too. 

Too  often,  however,  the  owner,  losing  his  head  at  the 
unexpected  flow  of  money  into  his  coffers,  does  not 
trouble  to  keep  the  cook  who  is  making  his  fortune. 


198      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

For  a  time  the  public  does  not  find  this  out,  but  when 
it  does  the  place  soon  empties. 

In  Paris  a  restaurant  is  sometimes  the  rage  for  a  year 
or  two,  and  then  suddenly  loses  its  patrons,  who  entirely 
desert  it  for  no  apparent  reason. 

It  was  not  thus,  however,  that  the  Cafe  Anglais,  the 
last  of  the  fine  old-fashioned  restaurants,  ended;  till  it 
closed  not  so  very  many  years  ago,  old  clients  continued 
to  dine  there.  Up  to  the  end  the  cooking  remained 
admirable,  while  the  dinner  and  excellent  wines  were 
always  served  in  a  manner  which  recalled  the  refinement 
and  care  considered  essential  to  dining  in  a  more 
aristocratic  and  more  leisured  age. 

There  were  no  waiters  rushing  about  from  one  table  to 
the  other,  no  clattering  of  plates,  and  of  course  no  band. 

A  solemn  and  dignified  individual  in  immaculate 
evening  dress  with  a  black  beribboned  pince-nez  sub- 
mitted a  scheme  for  dining  to  favoured  clients,  the 
whole  meal  being  a  sort  of  gastronomic  symphony 
unspoilt  by  any  false  note. 

The  plate  was  silver,  and  wines  were  served  in 
delicately  cut  decanters,  to  the  neck  of  which  a  heart- 
shaped  piece  of  white  paper  was  affixed,  bearing  the 
name,  date  and  any  other  particulars  of  the  vintage  to 
which  the  contents  belonged. 

The  personnel  of  the  establishment,  down  to  the 
chasseur  who  called  you  a  cab,  had  manners  such  as  are 
said  to  have  prevailed  at  Versailles — probably  a  good 
deal  better,  for  the  ancien  regime,  as  may  be  learnt  from 
history,  had  its  lapses. 

The  great  vogue  of  this  cafe,  of  course,  had  been 
during  the  Second  Empire,  when  it  was  the  headquarters 
of  pleasure-loving  viveurs,  who  held  many  a  merry 
supper  in  the  private  room  upstairs,  No.  16,  known  as 
"  le  grand  seize." 

Readers  of  Alphonse  Daudet's  delightful  book  "  Les 
Rois  en  Exil  "  will  remember  the  adventure  of  the  pretty 


CAFES  WITHOUT  CANT  199 

young  lady  who,  having  supped  in  this  cabinet  par- 
ticulier  with  someone  else  than  her  husband,  escapes 
detection  by  assuming  a  cook-boy's  dress,  in  which  she 
walks  out  of  the  place. 

Curiously  enough,  though  the  restaurant  has  been 
demolished,  the  patter  of  feminine  footsteps,  which  once 
enlivened  the  old  place,  may  still  be  heard  in  the  vicinity, 
for  just  round  the  corner  of  the  boulevard  in  the  Rue  de 
Grammont  has  sprung  up  "  the  Frolics,"  a  dining  place 
and  restaurant  nightly  thronged  by  couples  fond  of 
dancing  and  pleasure. 

When  the  Cafe  Anglais  closed  its  doors  several  old 
clients,  mindful  of  pleasant  evenings  spent  in  the  old 
place,  determined  to  secure  some  souvenir,  and  at  the 
sale  which  was  subsequently  held  certain  pieces  of  plate 
consequently  went  very  well. 

Vefours,  another  famous  old  cafe  in  the  Palais  Roy  ale, 
once  a  very  celebrated  haunt  of  gastronomists,  though 
almost  forgotten,  survived  till  1920,  when  its  premises 
were  taken  over  by  the  Banque  de  France. 

It  was  opened  as  far  back  as  1750,  when  it  was  known 
as  the  Cafe  des  Chart  res,  and  for  more  than  a  century 
was  the  gathering  place  of  generals,  financiers,  wealthy 
strangers,  and  gourmets  of  all  nationalities.  Here 
M.  de  la  Reyniere;  Murat,  Napoleon's  brother-in-law; 
Joseph  Berchoux,  the  poet,  author  of  "  La  Gastronomic," 
whose  seventy-four  years  ended  in  1839,  held  their 
gastronomic  parties,  calling  the  chef  to  their  tables  and 
personally  directing  the  culinary  experiments  which  were 
to  be  prepared  for  the  following  day. 

The  Trois  Fr&res,  another  famous  restaurant  in  the 
Palais  Royale,  disappeared  years  ago. 

In  this  noted  resort  of  gastronomy  Napoleon  dined 
with  Barras  and  discussed  the  political  problems  of 
France  over  his  dinner.  Yet  another  noted  resort  was 
Fevrier's,  where  Le  Peltier  de  Saint-Fargeau,  the  Con- 
ventionnel,  was  assassinated  by  Paris,  a  former  garde 


200      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

du  corps,  at  the  famous  midnight  supper  on  January 
20,  1793,  the  eve  of  the  execution  of  Louis  XVI.  Even 
the  memory  of  the  Galerie  Europeenne  has  faded  away, 
although  in  its  halls  it  was  once  possible  to  dine — with 
wine — for  less  than  two  francs,  and  enjoy  epicurean 
delicacies  which  in  a  Paris  restaurant  to-day  would  cost 
not  less  than  a  hundred  francs. 

Though  prices  are  now  high  and  complaints  as  to  the 
deterioration  of  Parisian  cookery  general,  it  is  still 
possible  to  obtain  a  good  dinner  in  the  gay  city. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  as  has  been  said,  pessimism  on 
this  subject  has  always  prevailed  among  the  French 
themselves.  Writing  in  1866,  that  confirmed  boule- 
vardier,  and  lover  of  Paris,  Nestor  Roqueplan,  declared 
that  the  French  cuisine  had  lost  much  of  its  originality 
and  special  characteristics.  "  We  no  longer,"  said  he, 
"  find  places  devoted  to  the  Flemish  kitchen,  others  to 
the  Normandy,  Lyonnaise,  Toulousian,  Bordelaise,  and 
Provengale  kitchens."  Nevertheless,  he  admitted  that 
France  was  still  the  country  where  eating  was  to  be 
found  at  its  best. 

Nestor  Roqueplan,  it  may  be  added,  prided  himself 
on  never  having  gone  outside  the  walls  of  Paris.  His 
definition  of  the  country  was  "  A  damp  place  where 
raw  birds  scream." 

The  type  of  which  he  was  such  a  well-known  repre- 
sentative, though  in  a  few  cases  he  lingered  on  into  the 
days  of  the  Third  Republic,  practically  ceased  to  exist 
after  the  downfall  of  the  Imperial  regime. 

Tortoni's,  where  the  boulevardiers  were  wont  to  meet 
their  fellows  in  the  afternoon,  has  long  disappeared — 
the  Maison  d'Oree  and  Cafe  Anglais,  where  they  dined 
and  supped,  are  but  memories. 

As  for  the  Aspasias  and  Phrynes,  in  whose  smiles  they 
basked,  tired  and  weary,  with  the  old  maitres  d'hotel 
who  served  them,  all  have  gone  to  that  bed  in  which  no 
sleeper  turns. 


XI 
MONTMARTRE 

MONTMARTRE  derives  its  name  from  Mons 
Martis,  because  a  temple  of  Mars  existed  on 
the  hill  in  the  time  of  the  Romans.  Before 
the  Revolution  there  was,  on  the  summit  of  the  hill, 
a  celebrated  convent  of  Benedictine  nuns.  As  late  as 
1840  Montmartre  was  quite  rural  in  character,  mostly 
known  for  its  numerous  windmills  and  guinguettes,  the 
latter  of  which  were  much  frequented  by  Parisians,  who 
went  to  the  village,  as  it  was  then  called,  on  account 
of  the  fine  view  of  Paris  to  be  obtained  from  the  hill. 
The  quarries  of  Montmartre  are  famous  for  their  gypsum, 
or,  as  it  is  more  commonly  called,  plaster  of  Paris.  The 
geological  structure  of  this  hill  is  highly  interesting, 
as  the  ascending  series  of  strata,  from  the  passage  of  the 
calcaire  grossier  into  the  gypseous  marls  to  the  upper 
fresh  water,  is  easily  investigated. 

In  old  days  Montmartre  was  a  village  famed  for  its 
windmills,  a  dozen  of  which  stood  in  a  semicircle  on 
its  heights,  whilst  three  more  occupied  another  position, 
Of  all  these,  two,  known  as  "  le  Radet  "  and  "  le  Blute- 
Fin,"  alone  survive. 

The  former  dates  from  1268,  the  latter  from  1295.  Both, 
which  only  ceased  to  work  some  thirty  years  ago,  are  now 
incorporated  in  the  cabaret  known  as  "  le  Moulin  de  la 
Galette,"  owned  by  M.  Auguste  Debray,  whose  family  have 
been  millers  of  Montmartre  for  many  generations.  The 
farmhouse  which  was  close  by  has  entirely  disappeared. 

Among  the  defenders  of  "  la  Butte  "  in  1814  no  one 
fought  with  more  determination  than  four  brothers 


202      MAYFA1R  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Debray.  Three  of  them  having  been  left  for  dead,  the 
fourth,  in  spite  of  the  order  to  cease  firing,  still  fought 
on  till,  hacked  almost  to  pieces,  he  was  caught  up  in 
the  sails  of  his  own  mill  and  thrown  to  the  four  winds 
of  heaven. 

The  "  Moulin  de  la  Galette,"  where  thirty  years  ago 
there  was  much  dancing,  has  always  been  a  favourite 
resort  of  lovers,  many  of  whom  have  left  their  names 
inside  the  old  mill,  the  woodwork  of  which  also  abounds 
in  amorous  inscriptions. 

From  the  top  there  is  a  magnificent  view  of  Paris. 
On  a  fine  day  every  palace,  church,  and  public  edifice 
stands  distinctiy  before  the  eye,  and,  interspersed  with 
the  foliage  of  the  gardens  and  the  boulevards,  the  whole 
forms  a  prospect  at  once  grand  and  beautiful. 

Corot,  it  may  be  added,  painted  a  picture  of  the 
"  Moulin  de  la  Galette  "  in  1840. 

Mont  Valerien,  the  fortified  hill  which  is  such  a  striking 
feature  of  the  scenery  just  outside  Paris,  is  similar  to 
Montmartre  in  its  chemical  formation.  It  was  formerly 
called  Mont  Calvaire,  which  name  it  derived  from  a 
chapel  consecrated  there  in  1663,  on  which  occasion 
three  lofty  crosses  were  planted  on  the  summit  of  the 
hill.  From  that  time  it  was  respected  as  a  place  of 
religious  devotion ;  several  hermits  took  up  their  abode 
on  its  sides,  and  pilgrimages  used  to  be  made  to  it.  At 
the  Revolution  the  custom  fell  into  disuse ;  but  at  the 
Restoration  pilgrimages  again  came  into  vogue  for  a 
short  time.  At  the  Revolution  of  1830  the  hill  and  its 
dependencies  were  finally  taken  from  the  influence  of 
the  Church,  and  subsequently  the  summit  was  made  into 
one  of  the  chief  defences  of  Paris.  The  calvary  then 
removed,  being  now  in  the  old  cemetery  behind  the 
church  of  St  Pierre  on  the  "  Butte." 

Montmartre,  in  modern  days  known  as  a  Bohemian 
quarter  mainly  devoted  to  frivolity,  has  been  the  scene 
of  serious  happenings  in  the  past. 


MONTMARTRE  203 

From  here  in  1590  Henri  IV  saluted  the  Parisians 
with  a  bombardment,  and  here  too  a  handful  of  deter- 
mined soldiers  made  a  gallant  if  futile  stand  against 
the  Allies  in  1814. 

The  real  union  between  Montmartre  and  Paris  took 
place  in  1860,  when  the  wall  separating  this  suburb 
from  the  capital  was  destroyed,  and  what  had  not  so 
very  long  before  been  merely  a  village  became  part  of 
the  great  city. 

It  was  from  the  Butte  Montmartre  that,  on  the  7th 
October  1870,  Gambetta  and  Spuller  set  out  in  the 
balloon  Armand-Barbes  from  besieged  Paris. 

On  the  heights  of  Montmartre  too,  in  1871,  were 
massed  the  revolutionary  cannon,  the  demand  for  the 
surrender  of  which  by  M.  Thiers  led  the  outbreak  of 
the  Commune.  Here,  too,  perished  Generals  Clement, 
Thomas  and  Lecomte,  who  were  put  up  against  a  wall 
and  shot  in  the  Rue  des  Hosiers  by  a  mob  composed  of 
the  scum  of  Paris.  Both  these  brave  men  looked  death 
proudly  in  the  face  and,  never  flinching,  died  like  heroes. 

Another  portion  of  Paris — Belleville — was,  as  late 
as  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  almost  a  village.  The 
side  of  the  hill,  which  now  shelters  a  teeming  population, 
was  then  covered  with  neat  country-houses  and  a  great 
number  of  guinguettes,  where  a  multitude  of  Parisians  of 
the  working  classes  assembled  on  Sundays  and  holidays. 

These  guinguettes  formerly  abounded  in  the  suburbs 
of  Paris  and  were  very  popular  with  the  people  on  holi- 
days. They  were  originally  very  poor  affairs,  and  re- 
freshments were  obtained  at  a  trifling  expense.  Among 
those  which  were  celebrated  were  the  Vendanges  de 
Bourgogne,  Faubourg  du  Temple,  Jardin  de  la  Galte, 
Baniere  du  Maine,  the  Salon  Desnoyez,  Barriere  de  la 
Courtille,  the  Ferme,  upon  the  hill  of  Montmartre,  the 
He  d' Amour,  at  Belleville,  la  Chaumiere,  Boulevard 
du  Mont  Parnasse,  le  Salon  du  Feu  Eternel,  Boulevard 
de  1'Hdpital.  When  a  guinguette  adds  an  orchestra 


204      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

and  a  ballroom  to  its  other  attractions,  it  is  called  a 
bastiingue. 

Within  the  last  quarter  of  a  century  Montmartre, 
which  had  already  lost  most  of  its  rustic  aspect,  has 
entirely  changed. 

At  one  time  Montmartre  was  noted  for  its  vines,  which 
produced  a  wine  which  people  came  from  afar  to  drink. 
As,  however,  streets  of  houses  spread  over  the  hill  the 
vines  disappeared,  till  only  a  few,  kept  as  curiosities, 
were  left  near  le  Moulin  de  la  Galette. 

For  a  long  time,  however,  cottages  and  little  gardens 
survived.  It  remained  for  the  spirit  of  the  twentieth 
century,  hostile  as  it  is  to  things  picturesque  and  poetic, 
to  strike  the  final  blow  in  the  vulgarization  and 
destruction  of  what  was  once  an  old-world  village  dotted 
over  with  windmills,  cottages  and  quaint  little  gardens, 
whilst  cattle  grazed  upon  its  slopes.  The  Sacre  Cceur 
which  now  stands  on  the  summit  is  a  huge  building 
in  the  Roman-Byzantine  style.  In  the  Campanile  is 
la  Savoyarde,  one  of  the  biggest  bells  in  existence,  cast 
at  Annecy  in  1895. 

The  construction  of  this  great  building  was  decreed 
by  the  National  Assembly  in  1874.  The  nature  of  the 
ground  presented  a  good  deal  of  difficulty,  and  the  church 
was  only  consecrated  in  October  1919. 

A  still  existing  relic  of  the  original  village  is  la  Rue 
Norvins,  with  its  old  houses  and  quaint  roofs ;  another 
is  la  Place  du  Tertre,  which  at  the  proper  season  is 
rendered  fragrant  by  its  acacias.  Here  is  a  quaint  old 
cabaret,  attached  to  which  is  a  garden  of  the  style 
popular  when  Montmartre  abounded  in  guinguettes. 

Another  survival  of  vanished  days  is  the  Cabaret 
du  Lapin  Agile,  in  the  Rue  des  Saules,  which  contains 
a  number  of  paintings,  among  which  is  a  humorous 
composition  by  Willette,  "  1'Ecroulement  de  la  Butte." 

The  Lapin  Agile,  a  strange  little  place  carved  as  it  were 
out  of  the  very  side  of  the  hill  of  Montmartre  just  under 


MONTMARTRE  205 

the  towers  of  the  Sacre  Cceur,  was  formerly  a  favourite 
resort  of  poets,  who  were  wont  to  recite  verse  there. 

To-day,  however,  it  is  rather  the  haunt  of  airmen, 
whose  lusty  voices  have  to  a  great  extent  eclipsed  the 
impassioned  rhetoric  of  artistic  frequenters. 

Although  still  popular  with  artistic  Bohemians  it  is 
no  longer  their  especial  domain,  such  as  it  was  when 
Murger,  Villemessant,  Daudet,  Catulle,  Mendes,  and  many 
other  celebrities  of  the  literary  world  haunted  the  cafes 
of  the  Place  Pigalle. 

It  is  only  within  comparatively  recent  years  that 
Montmartre  has  come  to  be  regarded  as  the  headquarters 
of  Paris  night  life. 

The  viveurs  of  the  Second  Empire  never  thought  of 
going  there  in  search  of  amusement ;  they  haunted  the 
boulevards  in  which  were  their  favourite  restaurants, 
such  as  the  Maison  d'Oree,  Cafe  Riche  and  Cafe  Anglais, 
the  last  of  which  closed  its  doors  only  a  few  years  ago. 

It  is  at  nightfall  that  Montmartre  awakens,  though 
the  larger  restaurants  do  not  really  get  into  full  swing 
till  after  midnight  has  sounded. 

The  night  cafes  of  Montmartre,  such  as  the  Abbaye  de 
Theleme  and  other  similar  resorts,  have  most  of  them 
originated  from  comparatively  humble  little  cabarets 
frequented  by  students  and  artists  of  small  means. 

In  some  cases  these  places  have  become  popular  owing 
to  their  walls  having  been  decorated  with  striking 
paintings  by  its  artistic  frequenters,  who,  it  should  be 
added,  disappear  as  soon  as  wealthy  pleasure-seekers 
begin  to  cause  the  prices  to  rise. 

It  was  the  Chat-Noir  which  first  led  the  ordinary 
pleasure-seeker  to  appreciate  the  joys  of  "  La  Butte." 
There  for  a  few  francs  the  visitor  fond  of  art  and 
laughter  was  allowed  to  participate  hi  the  joys  of 
Bohemian  life,  to  hear  clever  and  amusing  songs  sung 
by  their  authors  while  surrounded  by  a  Rabelaisian 
atmosphere. 


206      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

In  course  of  time  a  number  of  other  cabarets,  some 
really  artistic,  others  merely  shams,  sprang  up. 

Montmartre  now  began  to  attract  foreigners.  Soon 
came  the  Grand  Dukes,  who  in  these  latter  days  have 
been  supplanted  by  wealthy  Americans,  after  which 
the  ordinary  visitor  was  not  long  in  following. 

Naturally  the  men  and  women  who  now  flocked  to 
la  Butte  wanted  to  sup,  and  in  order  to  meet  their 
wants  elaborate  restaurants,  blazing  with  electric  lights 
and  equipped  with  tzigane  bands,  rapidly  came  into 
existence. 

Providing  first-rate  if  expensive  wine  and  food, 
keeping  open  late,  and  frequented  by  crowds  of  cocottes, 
these  places,  the  chief  of  which  is  the  "  Abbaye  de 
Theleme,"  make  a  special  appeal  to  the  wealthy  tourist 
eager  to  participate  in  the  night  life  of  Paris. 

One  of  the  queerest  of  these  Montmartre  night  resorts 
was  the  Cabaret  de  Neant,  in  which  everything  was 
arranged  to  give  a  tomblike  idea. 

The  waiters  were  dressed  like  undertakers,  while  by 
a  peculiar  arrangement  of  mirrors  visitors  saw  their 
bodies  crumble  away  till  nothing  but  their  skeletons 
appeared  to  be  left. 

Heaven,  with  angel  attendants,  and  Hell,  with  devils 
to  bring  drinks,  were  two  of  a  number  of  eccentric  cafes, 
some  of  which  still  exist. 

At  the  Abbaye  de  Theleme  English  ladies  may 
occasionally  be  seen,  sometimes  with  their  husbands, 
sometimes  with  other  people's.  Austere  individuals 
who  when  at  home  are  all  in  favour  of  Puritan  regula- 
tions may  also  often  be  observed  supping  at  this  resort, 
quite  at  their  ease,  though  sitting  next  to  the  most 
notorious  cocottes.  Anglo-Saxon  morality  relaxes  across 
the  Channel. 

At  the  night  cafes  of  Montmartre,  naive  visitors, 
basking  in  some  fair  one's  smiles  in  a  gaudily  decorated 
room,  full  of  music,  laughter,  noise  and  smoke,  con- 


MONTMARTRE  207 

gratulate  themselves  that  they  really  are  seeing  life  in 
Paris. 

Though  they  enjoy  it  at  the  time,  quite  a  number  go 
back  to  their  own  country  full  of  indignation  at  the 
decadence  of  France,  while  expressing  their  satisfaction 
that  their  own  pure  capital,  London,  can  show  no  such 
scene  of  abomination. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  Parisian  night  restaurant 
draws  far  the  largest  share  of  its  profits  out  of  English 
and  Americans,  who  are  its  principal  frequenters.  The 
French  do  not  like  paying  extortionate  prices  and 
therefore  go  little  to  such  places. 

Just  before  the  war,  cosmopolitan  haunts  of  facile 
pleasure  had  completely  dominated  Montmartre,  where 
those  fond  of  nocturnal  rambles  could  wander  from 
cabaret  to  cabaret  till  dawn. 

The  war  put  a  stop  to  all  this,  and  owing  to  the  short- 
age of  coal,  the  night  restaurants  were  obliged  to  close 
down  after  the  Armistice. 

The  Minister  of  the  Interior,  it  was  said,  regarded 
Montmartre  with  anything  but  a  friendly  eye,  and  had 
unofficially  expressed  his  intention  of  doing  his  best  to 
curb  its  Rabelaisian  extravagances. 

This  Minister,  however,  has  now  gone,  and  with 
increased  liberty  as  to  hours,  the  nocturnal  revellers  are 
once  more  flocking  to  the  "  Hill  "  much  as  they  did 
before  the  war. 

Montmartre,  indeed,  bids  fair  to  recover  all  its  old 
gaiety  and  independence,  while  its  streets  abound  in 
cabarets  bearing  strange  names  where  "  la  Chanson 
Frangaise "  may  be  heard.  In  March  1921  a  joyous 
cavalcade,  presided  over  by  a  pretty  girl  impersonating 
the  "  Muse  of  Montmartre,"  paraded  la  Butte  something 
after  the  fashion  of  the  famous  "  Vachalcade  "  of  1897, 
which  contained  so  many  artistic  and  amusing  features, 
such  as  the  car  full  of  pierrots,  designed  by  the  famous 
Montmartre  artist  Willette. 


208      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Gustave  Charpentier,  the  gifted  composer  of  Louise, 
also  gave  his  aid  to  the  success  of  this  procession. 

In  one  car  were  grouped  all  the  prettiest  models  of 
Montmartre  ;  another  contained  Druids. 

The  most  original  car,  however,  was  that  of  the  Sacre 
Cceur,  which  in  those  days  was  still  in  course  of  erection 
in  la  Butte. 

This  contained  a  large  model  of  the  great  church 
surrounded  by  scaffolding,  while  from  the  interior  pealed 
an  organ  to  the  accompaniment  of  which  at  every  halt 
sang  Marcel  Legay,  who  in  consequence  of  his  zeal  could 
not  speak  for  eight  days  after. 

The  triumph  of  the  cortege  of  1897,  however,  was  the 
car  of  "  La  Montmartroise,"  a  pretty  girl  of  whom  Leon 
Durochet  sang  : 

"  Son  nez  mutin,  son  nez  pointu, 
Nargue  les  marchands  de  vertu, 
Qui  pretendent  lui  chercher  noise. 
Elle  vent  lancer  librement, 
Son  bonnet  vers — le  firmament, 
La  Montmartroise." 

The  procession  of  1921,  which,  it  should  be  added, 
was  organized  under  the  personal  supervision  of  M. 
Depaquit,  the  "  maire  "  of  the  artists  and  poets  of  Mont- 
martre, was  not  entirely  frivolous  in  its  aim. 

The  laughter  of  Montmartre  on  this  occasion  dried 
tears  at  Coincy,  a  sorely  war-worn  village  in  the  Aisne 
(adopted  by  la  Butte),  for  the  impoverished  inhabitants 
of  which  a  collection  was  made  as  the  cortege  passed 
along. 

Montmartre,  it  is  notorious,  is  anything  but  Puritan, 
and  most  of  its  pretty  girls  are,  to  say  the  least  of  it, 
unconventional  in  their  ideas.  According  to  English 
novels  and  books  the  Parisian  grisette  (who,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  is  an  extinct  type)  lives  with  her  mother,  works 
during  the  day  but  goes  to  cafes  in  the  evenings,  where 


MONTMARTRE  209 

she  consorts  with  young  artists  and  students.  Though 
fond  of  dance  and  song  she  is  a  girl  of  high  moral  prin- 
ciples, appreciating  which,  her  friends  take  care  to  be 
particular  in  their  conversation,  while  never  attempting 
any  familiarities  likely  to  shock  her. 

She  has  a  lover,  of  course,  but  her  relations  with  him 
are  purely  platonic,  while  his  one  aim  is  to  make  enough 
money  to  lead  her  to  the  altar,  where,  in  the  end,  the  old 
cure  gives  the  happy  couple  his  blessing. 

Pure  fiction  !  designed,  of  course,  to  meet  the  re- 
quirements of  "  Aunt  Jane  from  Clapham,"  whose  moral 
susceptibilities  we  are  all  supposed  to  respect.  In  real 
life  the  French  girl  who  passes  her  life  with  artists  and 
students  is  in  the  vast  majority  of  instances  avowedly 
"  unmoral."  If  she  loves  a  man  she  will  be  true  to  him 
while  her  love  lasts ;  when  it  dies  she  goes  on  to  someone 
else.  There  is  no  question  of  her  being  shocked — even 
comparatively  strict  French  girls  do  not  understand 
exactly  what  the  word  "  shocking,"  which  is  so  dear  to 
the  English  bourgeoisie,  means. 

As  for  being  married,  such  an  idea  rarely  enters  her 
or  her  lover's  head.  Both  regard  their  liaison  merely 
as  an  interlude  of  pleasure,  which  at  heart  they  know  is 
bound  to  end  some  time  or  other.  When  he  does  marry, 
it  will  probably  be  to  some  lady  with  a  dowry  who  has 
been  found  for  him  by  his  family.  As  for  the  girl,  if  she 
has  contrived  to  save,  which  is  often  the  case,  she  is 
pretty  sure  eventually  to  find  some  small  tradesman 
as  a  husband.  With  him  she  will  contentedly  end  her 
days,  carrying  on  a  little  business  in  the  provinces. 

The  ultimate  fate  of  many  of  this  class  in  Paris,  never- 
theless, is  much  of  a  mystery.  One  day  they  disappear, 
and  no  one  seems  to  know  where  they  go  to.  As  a  French 
writer  has  put  it,  "  There  is  no  cemetery  for  pretty 
birds." 

The  'forties  of  the  last  century  was  the  halcyon  period 
of  Parisian  Bohemianism  and  romance,  when  dainty 

14 


210      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

grisettes  and  picturesque  students  are  supposed  to  have 
led  a  delightful  existence  upon  nothing  at  all. 

Whether  they  really  did  so  is  another  question ;  in 
reality  there  was  probably  a  good  deal  of  discomfort  and 
squalor  about  their  lives. 

Beranger  started  the  legend  with  his  poetic  eulogy  of  a 
garret  as  an  ideal  abode  for  lovers  of  twenty,  while  Henri 
Murger,  in  his  delightful  book  "  La  vie  de  Boheme," 
further  idealized  the  joys  of  life  as  led  by  irresponsible 
and  impecunious  youth. 

All  the  young  women  in  Paris  seem  to  have  had  a 
mania  for  caressing  Beranger,  who,  it  is  said,  found 
himself  obliged  to  move  out  of  the  Latin  quarter  be- 
cause the  students  insisted  on  pointing  him  out  to  their 
female  companions,  who  in  their  enthusiasm  made  a 
point  of  embracing  him  on  every  possible  occasion.  This 
the  poet  found  to  be  rather  too  much  of  a  good  thing. 

Murger,  though  he  painted  an  attractive  picture  of 
Bohemian  life  in  Paris,  had  a  hard  youth.  As  a  young 
man  he  and  a  friend  lived  in  the  Rue  de  Vaugirard,  the 
united  fortunes  of  the  two  amounting  only  to  seventy 
francs  a  month. 

Sir  Walter  Besant,  writing  of  Murger,  called  him  "  a 
mere  child  of  the  people,  pitchforked  into  the  ranks  of 
literature ;  but  never  in  the  smallest  degree  represent- 
ing the  voice  of  the  people — a  simple,  sad  life,  mistaken 
in  its  aims,  bankrupt  in  its  aspirations,  ruined  by  its 
follies."  Sir  Walter  did  not  think  him  respectable  ! 

This  is  all  very  well ;  nevertheless  Murger,  who  died 
at  thirty-four,  earned  himself  a  far  more  enduring  monu- 
ment than  most  writers  of  romance  with  his  delightful 
creation  of  Mimi  and  Musette. 

To-day,  as  has  before  been  said,  the  grisette  is  an 
extinct  type,  but  nevertheless  quite  a  number  of  the 
girls  of  the  Quartier  Latin  and  of  Montmartre,  owing 
to  close  association  with  youthful  artists,  poets,  and 
musicians,  acquire  something  of  her  legendary  charm. 


MONTMARTRE  211 

Verlaine  used  to  tell  a  story  of  one  of  these  modern 
"  Mimi  Pinsons,"  who,  waking  late,  found  her  pet  canary 
dead  in  his  cage. 

When  she  had  finished  covering  its  little  body  with 
kisses  and  tears,  Mimi  began  to  ponder  over  how  she 
should  dispose  of  it. 

Having  dressed  her  pretty  self,  she  put  the  tiny  mass 
of  feathers  almost  mechanically  into  her  muff  and  went 
out  for  a  walk. 

As  luck  would  have  it  she  soon  found  herself  near 
the  Panthe"on,  and  here  an  idea  struck  her. 

"  Go,  cheri,"  said  she,  "  sleep  your  last  sleep  with  the 
great  men  of  France,"  and  after  a  last  caress  she  daintily 
slipped  the  golden  ball  of  fluff  down  one  of  the  gratings 
of  Soufflot's  monumental  erection. 

While  many  of  the  models  of  Montmartre  are  clever 
and  attractive,  the  professional  cocottes  are  rarely 
possessed  of  charm. 

To-day  there  are  no  great  courtezans  like  Cora  Pearl, 
Leonide  Leblanc,  or  Anna  Delion. 

Cyprian  aristocracy,  like  another  kind,  has  degenerated, 
its  place  being  inadequately  filled  by  a  class  devoid  of 
culture  or  tradition. 

The  demi-mondaines  of  the  Second  Empire  and  early 
days  of  the  Third  Republic  were  quite  frankly  priestesses 
of  Venus,  and  were  proud  of  it.  They  were,  however, 
treated  with  respect,  and  quite  a  number  presided  over 
a  salon,  for  clever  men  were  only  too  glad  to  visit  a 
hostess  who  was  intimately  connected  with  literature 
and  art,  in  addition  to  knowing  political  secrets  learnt 
from  great  personages  whose  heads  not  infrequently 
reposed  upon  these  ladies'  pillows. 

A  number  of  great  cocottes  then  prided  themselves 
upon  being  cultured,  and  kept  in  close  touch  with  the 
artistic  world. 

Verses  were  often  composed  concerning  these  ladies 
and  their  doings.  The  following  lines,  written  on  the 


212      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

occasion  of  a  famous  beauty  getting  a  new  and  gorgeous 
bedstead,  are  clever  as  well  as  amusing  : 

"  Ton  lit  est  bois  de  rose, 
II  est  fait  assurement, 
Non  pour  1'epoux  et  la  prose, 
Mais  pour  le  vers  et  1'amant." 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  Phrynes  of  that  day  was 
an  Englishwoman,  Cora  Pearl.  She  outlived  most  of 
her  contemporaries  and  died  in  a  state  of  complete 
destitution  not  so  many  years  ago.  She  was  never 
clever,  and  in  the  days  of  her  prosperity  was  addicted, 
not  only  to  spending  her  admirers'  money,  but  actually 
to  squandering  it  in  fatuous  extravagance,  such  as  baths 
of  champagne  and  similar  idiotcies. 

After  the  Second  Empire  had  ended  in  the  catastrophe 
of  Sedan  a  number  of  the  lights  of  love  who  had  been 
the  joy  of  the  Imperial  Court  retired  into  private  life. 
Most  of  them  had  feathered  their  nests,  but  a  few,  like 
Cora  Pearl,  came  to  the  sad  end  which  is  apt  to  be  the 
fate  of  such  women. 

In  the  Paris  of  to-day  there  are  tragic  stories  con- 
nected with  some  of  the  older  female  frequenters  of  the 
night  resorts  who  after  revelling  in  luxury  have  come 
down  in  the  world. 

Most  of  these,  however,  are  foreigners,  for  the  French 
woman,  as  a  rule,  recognizes  that  her  attractions  will 
not  last  for  ever,  and  in  the  days  of  her  prosperity  makes 
provision  for  the  future. 

As  a  poor  butterfly  with  tattered  wings  returns  to  the 
flowery  haunts  of  its  youth,  so  worn-out  beauties  seem 
naturally  to  gravitate  towards  Paris. 

Only  a  short  time  ago  an  Englishwoman,  who  in  her 
day  had  been  a  refulgent  constellation  in  the  firmament 
of  pleasure  and  had  revelled  in  every  luxury  wealth 
could  command,  dragged  out  a  wretched  existence  in 
the  lowest  cafes.  When  the  end  came  the  poor  thing 


MONTMARTRE  213 

would  have  been  consigned  to  a  pauper's  grave  had  not 
chance  discovered  her  identity  to  a  few  old  friends,  who 
did  all  they  could  to  lighten  her  last  moments. 

The  fierce  anti-Puritanism  of  artistic  Paris  tolerates 
no  interference  with  certain  of  its  traditional  amusements. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  of  these,  of  course,  is  the 
famous  bal  des  Quat'z  'Arts,  an  annual  revel  where 
artists  and  their  models  appear  in  every  kind  of  fancy 
costume.  Admission  for  anyone  not  connected  with 
an  atelier  is  exceedingly  difficult,  entrance  tickets  being 
rigorously  controlled. 

At  one  of  these  balls  some  years  ago  a  pretty  model 
of  the  Atelier  Rochegrosse,  known  as  Sarah  Brown,  like 
Helen  of  Troy,  was  the  cause  of  considerable  bloodshed. 

The  dress  of  most  of  the  ladies  attending  these  balls 
is  usually  very  light,  but  Sarah  Brown  easily  outstripped 
them  all.  As  a  result  the  authorities,  contrary  to  their 
usual  policy,  interfered,  with  the  result  that  a  very 
serious  riot,  in  which  quite  a  number  of  people  were 
killed,  ensued. 

The  curious  thing  was  that  the  vast  majority  of  rioters 
had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  ball  and  would, 
indeed,  not  have  had  the  slightest  chance  of  ever  being 
admitted  to  it. 

For  some  years  before  the  war  the  bal  des  Quat'z  'Arts 
had  lost  much  of  the  joyous  originality  which  enlivened 
it  in  former  days. 

Its  revival,  however,  after  so  many  sad  years  will 
probably  coincide  with  a  new  lease  of  life. 

Montmartre  has  always  been  fond  of  dancing,  and  in 
days  before  the  war  the  terpsichorean  eccentrics  to  be 
seen  at  the  Moulin  Rouge  were  the  wonder  and  delight 
of  pleasure-seekers  visiting  Paris. 

Few  probably  troubled  themselves  as  to  the  origin  of 
the  famous  dancing-place,  which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is 
of  no  antiquity,  either  as  a  mill  or  a  place  of  amusement. 

It  was,  however,  built  upon  the  site  of  a  once  famous 


214      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

public  ball,  "  La  Reine-Blanche "  which  at  one  time 
was  very  popular  with  work  girls,  numbers  of  whom 
imbibed  their  first  idea  of  gay  Parisian  life  there. 

"  La  Reine-Blanche,"  which  dated  from  1850,  was 
always  noted  as  a  place  to  which  the  public  went  with  a 
real  intention  of  amusing  itself,  not  to  see  the  celebrities 
of  the  day. 

The  oldest  public  ball  in  Montmartre  was  the  Elysee 
Montmartre,  which  was  established  early  in  the  nineteenth 
century. 

Originally  merely  an  insignificant  guinguette  where 
Parisians  went  to  dance  under  big  trees,  by  1835  it  had 
become  a  well-known  and  popular  resort. 

A  famous  public  ball,  the  site  of  which  is  now  "  La 
Cigale,"  was  La  Boule  Noire,  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue 
Rochechonart  and  the  Rue  des  Martyrs.  Founded  in 
1822  by  a  retired  courtezan  whose  boast  it  was  to  have 
known  Barras,  it  only  became  really  popular  under  the 
direction  of  her  successor.  The  latter  put  over  the 
entrance  a  huge  ball  of  green  glass.  It  was  this  ball, 
grown  black  from  dirt,  which  gave  the  place  its  name. 

In  its  palmy  days  La  Boule  Noir  was  a  favourite 
resort  of  girls  anxious  to  lead  a  life  of  gallantry. 

It  used,  indeed,  to  be  said  that  the  company  there 
mainly  consisted  of  very  young  men  or  very  old  ones 
dancing  with  girls  who  had  been  ruined  and  others  who 
were  only  waiting  for  an  opportunity  of  meeting  the 
same  fate. 

At  this  period  all  the  female  inhabitants  of  the 
Quartier  Breda  were  to  be  seen  at  this  ball,  quite  a 
number  being  experts  in  the  difficult  trick  of  kicking  off 
a  spectator's  hat  while  dancing  in  a  quadrille. 

Though  in  its  later  years  frequented  by  only  the  lowest 
riff-raff  of  Paris,  the  Boule  Noir  about  1848  had  its 
hour  of  fashionable  celebrity,  the  then  proprietor  having 
attached  a  restaurant  to  it  which  made  his  fortune. 

Long  after  this  dancing-place  had  become  thoroughly 


THE    MOULIN   ROUGE 


MONTMARTRE  215 

disreputable  the  restaurant  was  used  for  wedding 
breakfasts. 

It  was  at  the  Boule  Noir  in  1857  that  the  Lancers 
were  first  danced  in  public. 

In  its  last  days,  just  before  1885,  the  cost  of  entrance 
to  this  hall  was  only  twopence-halfpenny.  The  atmos- 
phere was  dreadful  beyond  belief,  and  the  company, 
consisting  of  every  kind  of  male  and  female  ruffian, 
made  such  a  noise  with  their  quarrelling  and  shouts 
that  the  music,  loud  and  blatant  as  it  was,  could  some- 
times scarcely  be  heard. 

It  was  at  the  Boule  Noir  that  la  Goulue,  who  created 
a  certain  sensation  by  her  dancing  in  the  'eighties,  made 
her  de*but  when  quite  a  girl. 

Here,  too,  the  famous  Rigolboche  first  burst  upon 
the  Parisian  world  of  pleasure. 

In  those  days  the  Boule  Noir  had  not  sunk  to  the 
depths  of  disreputability  which  characterized  its  end, 
nevertheless  the  mother  of  Rigolboche  did  not  approve 
of  her  daughter  dancing  there.  On  several  evenings 
while  the  girl  was  taking  part  in  a  quadrille,  the  old 
lady  made  an  unwelcome  appearance.  Rigolboche 
invariably  ran  away  round  the  orchestra,  always  taking 
care,  as  a  sign  of  defiance,  to  throw  her  petticoats  over 
her  head  as  she  made  her  exit.  Directly  her  mother  had 
gone  she  was  back  dancing  again.  She  danced,  indeed, 
with  such  extraordinary  grace  and  energy  that  before 
very  long,  migrating  from  Montmartre,  she  became  one  of 
the  chief  stars  of  the  pleasure-seekers'  Mecca — "  Mabille." 

This  open-air  dancing-place,  the  very  name  of  which 
for  more  than  fifty  years  symbolized  to  foreigners  the 
unrestrained  gaiety  of  La  Ville  Lumiere.  was  in  the 
Avenue  Montaigne,  and  its  well-kept  gardens  were 
frequented  by  all  the  viveurs  of  the  Second  Empire. 

The  master  of  the  ceremonies  was  Victor  Mabille,  who 
treated  the  lights  of  love  with  the  pleasant  arrogance 
of  a  good-humoured  sovereign. 


216      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

The  ladies  who  were  most  celebrated  at  this  resort 
besides  Rigolboche  were  Celeste  Mogador,  Alice  la 
Provengale,  Rose  Pompon  and  Marie  la  Polkeuse,  but 
the  queen  of  them  all  was  Heloise-Marie  Sergent 
"  Pomare'  " — the  Queen  of  Mabille. 

Celeste  Mogador,  nicknamed  "  la  Vestris  en  jupons," 
became  Comtesse  de  Chabrillan,  but  poor  Pomare  one 
day  disappeared,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  ended  her  life 
in  the  lowest  depths  of  Parisian  frailty. 

In  the  last  days  of  the  Second  Empire,  Mabille  was 
thronged  by  facile  beauties  arrayed  in  the  most 
sumptuous  costumes  that  Worth  could  furnish,  the 
costliest  bonnets  that  Lucy  Hocquet  could  build — 
Valenciennes  lace,  poult  de  soie,  cashmeres  and  diamonds. 
There  might  be  seen  dandies  from  the  clubs,  Senators, 
Deputies,  diplomatists  and  bankers,  English  peers  and 
Members  of  Parliament,  millionaires  from  across  the 
Atlantic,  all,  together  with  the  Messalines  who  attracted 
them,  now  long  gone  into  the  night. 

At  Mabille,  as  at  all  French  dancing-places  up  to  recent 
years,  the  great  attraction  was  "  la  quadrille  excentrique," 
otherwise  known  as  the  Can-can. 

Though  generally  considered  an  improper  performance 
by  the  English  who  flocked  to  see  it,  this  was  really 
nothing  but  an  arcobatic  dance,  the  high  kicking  indulged 
in  necessitating  a  good  deal  of  practice  and  training. 

For  the  time  being  the  popularity  of  jazzing  and 
other  exotic  forms  of  terpsichore  have  banished  this 
quadrille  from  Parisian  resorts.  Its  tradition,  however, 
still  lingers,  and  in  course  of  time  will  no  doubt  lead  to 
a  revival. 

Mabille  was  celebrated  all  over  Europe. 

In  the  fifties  Edmund  Yates  wrote : 

In  these  fine  summer  nights 

Mabille  too  invites 

With  its  excellent  band  and  its  glittering  lights. 
Ah  !  once  'twas  to  me  the  most  brilliant  of  sights  ! 


MONTMARTRE  217 

Consuls  Planco,  when  I  was  young, 
When  the  praises  of  Chicard  filled  every  tongue ; 
When  Brididi,  Frisette,  and  Pomare  were  there, 
With  Mogador,  dancing  a  can-can  d'enfer ! 
Now  Mogador's  dead, 
Frisette  has  fled, 

And  others,  no  doubt,  have  gone  on  in  their  stead  ; 
But  I'm  warned  by  stiff  limbs  and  a  frizzled  head 
That  vanished  for  aye  is  the  life  I  once  led, 
And  my  place,  when  the  clock  has  struck  twelve,  is  bed  ! 

Some  forty  years  ago  the  famous  dancing-place  was 
done  away  with,  the  site  being  wanted  for  building 
purposes,  and  houses  now  cover  the  ground  on  which 
so  many  pretty  feet  have  trodden  their  measure. 

If  sometimes,  says  Monsieur  George  Cain  (the  gifted 
author  of  many  delightful  books  about  Paris)  the 
inhabitants  of  Nos.  51  and  53  Avenue  Montaigne  are 
awakened  at  night  by  strange  noises,  the  cause  must 
be  that  some  of  the  lively  spirits  of  the  ladies  who  footed 
it  at  Mabille  have  come  back  to  dance  a  retrospective 
can-can  on  the  scene  of  their  vanished  exploits. 

One  of  the  few  surviving  dancing-places  of  a  past  era 
is  the  Bal  Bullier,  which  on  December  2nd,  1920,  after 
being  shut  for  six  years,  reopened,  its  last  revel  having 
been  held  on  August  ist,  1914. 

Once  again  the  students  assembled  in  the  old  dancing- 
hall  where  so  many  of  their  predecessors  had  disported 
themselves. 

A  huge  crowd  was  present ;  but,  as  is  the  way  of  the 
world,  visitors  who  had  known  the  place  in  the  past 
complained  that  things  had  changed  for  the  worse. 

The  Bal  Bullier,  which  has  been  termed  the  living 
expression  of  the  Quartier  Latin,  opened  as  a  ball  called 
"  La  Chartreuse "  in  1838.  Visitors  were  always  in- 
formed that  against  its  wall  Marshal  Ney  had  been 
shot. 

In  1847  the  owner  of  the  place  sold  it  to  Bullier,  who 
did  the  place  up  in  oriental  style  and  called  it  "  La 


218      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Closerie  des  Lilas."  Berenger  went  there,  and  all  the 
ladies,  after  Jeanne  la  Belle  had  offered  him  a  bouquet 
and  kissed  him,  wanted  to  do  the  same.  The  polka 
was  popular,  being  then  a  great  novelty,  but  it  was 
not  danced  as  in  ordinary  ball-rooms. 

The  Jardin  de  Paris  in  the  Champs  Elysees  which 
took  the  place  of  Mabille  has,  like  that  famous  resort, 
ceased  to  exist,  the  ground  which  it  occupied  having  been 
cleared  and  added  to  the  gardens  which  line  the  splendid 
approach  to  the  Arc  de  Triomphe. 

The  Jardin  de  Paris  never  enjoyed  the  vogue  of 
Mabille ;  nevertheless  over  its  site  still  linger  the  graceful 
shades  of  Jane  Avril,  the  supple-jointed  -Melinite,  im- 
mortalized by  the  genius  of  Toulouse-Lautrec,  and  many 
other  frail  beauties. 

The  Ambassadeurs,  too,  it  is  said,  is  soon  also  to  dis- 
appear, for  rumour  declares  that  the  Champs  Elysees  is 
eventually  to  be  cleared  of  all  the  buildings  which  have 
encroached  upon  it  and  be  restored  to  its  original  state 
of  a  wooded  public  garden.  The  Marigny  has  become 
a  theatre. 

The  two  other  cafe  concerts  in  the  Champs  Elysees 
have  already  closed  their  doors,  the  Alcazar  having 
become  what  is  known  in  modern  Paris  as  "  un  dancing," 
while  the  "  Horloge  "  is  merely  a  memory. 

In  the  'eighties  open-air  cafe  concerts  retained  many 
primitive  features,  being  then  not  fenced  in  with 
elaborate  barriers  or  roofed,  consequently  the  audience 
on  a  wet  night  had  to  put  up  their  umbrellas.  The  crowd 
which  used  to  assemble  outside  could  see  a  good  deal 
of  the  performance  through  the  trees,  while  the  price 
of  the  seats — nominally  free — were  included  in  the  sum 
charged  for  the  hock  or  cherry  brandy  which  were  the 
best  things  to  ask  for  at  these  open-air  resorts. 

To-day  a  far  more  elaborate  and  cosmopolitan  enter- 
tainment is  provided  for  the  delectation  of  the  audience, 
nor  do  there  seem  to  be  any  music-hall  stars  of  the  magni- 


MONTMARTRE  219 

tude  of  Paulus,  of  Theresa,  or  of  poor  Demay,  a  robust 
and  Rabelaisian  divette,  who  was  wont  vocally  to  boast 
of  her  power  of  cracking  nuts  by  sitting  upon  them. 

Whatever  criticism  might  be  passed  upon  the  songs 
sung  at  the  Cafe  des  Ambassadeurs  and  at  the  Alcazar, 
there  could  be  no  doubt  about  the  energy  and  vivacity 
displayed  by  the  singers. 

Those  were  days  when  Paulus,  probably  the  greatest 
artiste  who  ever  trod  the  cafe  concert  stage,  sang  the 
glories  of  General  Boulanger ;  and  Yvette  Guilbert, 
then  more  or  less  of  a  debutante,  held  her  audience 
enthralled  with  weird  songs  of  the  Parisian  under- 
world. 

In  winter  she  sang  at  the  Scala,  which  reaped  a  rich 
harvest  from  the  talent  which  drew  all  Paris  within  its 
walls. 

This  music-hall  was  on  the  Boulevard  de  Strasbourg, 
not  far  from  the  Eldorado,  where  Judic  and  Theo  had 
appeared. 

Here,  too,  Polin,  who  subsequently  became  an  ad- 
mirable artiste,  began  his  career. 

On  a  summer's  night  there  were  few  more  pleasant 
things  than  to  sit  and  hear  Paulus  sing  "  Le  Pere 
la  Victoire,"  which  tune,  by  the  way,  was  played 
by  one  of  the  military  bands  which  escorted  the 
Unknown  Soldier  to  his  last  resting-place  at  the  Arc 
de  Triomphe. 

One  of  the  stars  of  the  cafe  concert  during  the  Second 
Empire  and  early  days  of  the  Third  Republic  was 
Theresa.  An  English  theatrical  critic  not  at  all  partial 
to  the  art  of  the  cafe  concert  said  :  "  No  actor  can  see  her, 
no  musician  can  hear  her,  without  marvelling  at  the 
rare  amount  of  talent  evinced  by  her."  That  her 
sphere  of  art  is  a  low  one — perhaps  the  lowest — no  one 
can  deny,  but  her  pre-eminence  in  that  sphere  is  also 
undeniable,  and  at  the  risk  of  shocking  some  of  our 
readers,  we  venture  to  think  that  many  queens  of 


220      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

song  now  before  the  public  whose  names  are  cherished 
by  lovers  of  the  opera,  will  find  themselves  matched  and 
outdone  before  Mdlle.  Theresa  meets  her  equal.  In 
England  there  are  numerous  representatives  of  her 
faults,  but  we  shall  seek  hi  vain  for  anyone  who  can 
afford  the  least  idea  of  her  merits. 

Other  first-class  artistes  were  Mesdames  Amiati  and 
Duparc — both  charming  singers ;  Sulbac  and  Libert, 
who  in  his  day  scored  a  great  success  with  "  1'Amant 
d' Amanda." 

"  Amanda  n'a  qu'un  defaut, 
EUe  aime  trop  les  fritures, 
Bullier  et  Valentino, 
Et  les  courses  en  voitures." 

The  popularity  of  the  cafe  concerts  in  the  Champs 
Elysees  was  originated  by  an  individual  named  Masson, 
who  in  1782  organized  open-air  concerts  on  ground 
not  far  from  the  entrance.  The  famous  Musard  con- 
ducted the  orchestra.  Masson  had  been  a  handsome 
young  man  and  secretary  to  the  Due  de  Berry. 

Madame  Musard,  a  handsome  woman,  who  later 
on,  attracted  Napoleon  III,  looked  after  the  financial 
arrangements. 

Eventually  Musard  assumed  the  sole  direction  of  the 
entertainment,  the  entry  to  which  cost  one  franc.  No 
ladies  were  allowed  without  an  escort,  for  at  first  the 
place  was  run  on  rather  prudish  lines. 

Years  later,  however,  when  the  Concert  Musard 
became  the  Jardin  de  Paris,  quite  a  different  state  of 
affairs  became  the  order  of  the  day. 

One  of  the  past  proprietors  of  a  cafe  concert  in  the 
Champs  Elysees  distinguished  himself  by  inventing 
forty  new  kinds  of  drinks,  all  quite  different  one  from 
the  other. 

Each  of  these  "  American  drinks,"  as  he  -called  them, 
had  its  own  number,  and  when  a  client  asked  for  one 


MONTMARTRE  221 

the  waiter  would  enquire  what  is  Monsieur's  number  ? 
Very  often  people  did  not  understand,  when  the  waiter 
would  bring  up  an  individual  dressed  in  deep  black, 
whom  he  called  the  doctor.  The  latter  would  feel  the 
patient's  pulse  and  then  indicate  the  number  of  a  drink 
which  he  declared  would  be  suited  to  the  case. 

On  Grand  Prix  nights,  wild  scenes  used  sometimes  to 
take  place  in  the  Champs  Elysees.  Bands  of  young  men 
used  to  go  and  dine  at  the  Ambassadeurs,  uproariously 
applauding  all  the  female  singers  and  loudly  expressing 
appreciation  of  any  personal  beauty  they  might  possess. 
Top-hats  were  sometimes  flattened,  but  good  humour 
generally  prevailed. 

Great  uproar  was  however,  occasionally  created  by 
young  men,  who  had  dined  not  wisely  but  too  well, 
playfully  hurling  their  dessert  on  to  the  stage  from 
the  restaurant  which  faced  it. 

Thirty  years  ago,  during  the  first  part  of  the  perform- 
ance a  number  of  ladies,  generally  in  evening  dress, 
sat  on  the  stage,  each  of  whom  contributed  a  song  or 
recitation. 

The  whole  thing  was  a  glorified  version  of  a  provincial 
cafe  concert,  but  the  practice  of  performers  going  round 
the  auditorium  after  their  turn  and  making  a  collection 
was  omitted. 

The  second  part  of  the  entertainment  often  included 
a  little  piece  or  ballet,  but  there  was  no  elaborate  revue 
— the  whole  thing  was  old-fashioned  and  simple,  but 
the  songs  were  always  tuneful  and  frequently  clever. 

Though  tourists  made  a  point  of  going  to  these  enter- 
tainments the  mass  of  the  public  were  predominantly 
French.  Gradually,  however,  as  a  more  fashionable 
and  cosmopolitan  audience  became  attracted  to  the 
cafe  concert,  efforts  were  made  to  provide  a  more  am- 
bitious entertainment. 

A  roof  was  erected  over  the  auditorium,  and  more 
comfortable  seats  were  sold  as  in  a  theatre. 


222      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

The  ladies  in  evening  dress  disappeared  from  the 
stage,  where  elaborate  scenery  was  substituted  for  the 
simple  set  which  had  satisfied  former  generations. 

As  time  went  on  the  songs  became  less  and  less  the 
mainstay  of  the  performance.  One  or  two  stars  would 
go  through  their  repertoire,  but  the  minor  singers  of 
chansonettes  gave  place  to  ambitious  turns  and  richly- 
staged  revue. 

The  work-people  and  small  bourgeoisie  were  crowded 
out  by  a  more  well-to-do  audience,  and  the  whole  place 
lost  its  essentially  French  character  and  became  a 
cosmopolitan  entertainment  such  as  might  be  seen  in 
any  capital  of  Europe.  The  Parisian  cafe  concert,  with 
its  essentially  French  spirit,  was  dead. 


XII 
FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR 

THE  Bois  de  Boulogne,  besides  its  many  amenities, 
has  an  interesting  history.  Originally  it  was 
the  For£t  de  Rouvray,  and  at  one  time  pro- 
bably covered  an  area  three  times  as  great  as  that 
of  the  present  woods.  Its  limits,  already  decreased, 
were  very  largely  curtailed  by  the  devastation  wrought 
by  the  allied  armies  during  the  invasion  which  followed 
Waterloo. 

The  name  Bois  de  Boulogne  was  only  definitely 
adopted  in  1417.  It  originated  from  the  early  part  of 
the  fourteenth  century,  when  some  pilgrims  returning 
from  Boulogne-sur-Mer  obtained  the  permission  of  King 
Philippe  V  to  build  a  church  (similar  to  one  they  had 
visited  on  the  coast)  at  the  hamlet  of  Menus-lez-Saint- 
Cloud,  which  was  re-named  Boulogne-sur-Seine. 

The  church  was  called  Notre  Dame  de  Boulogne,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  forest  near  by  became  the  Bois  de 
Notre-Dame  de  Boulogne. 

In  those  days  Paris  was  but  a  small  city  nestling 
around  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame,  and  a  journey  across 
the  Bois  and  the  expanse  of  waste  ground  which  stretched 
towards  the  Seine,  known  to  Parisians  as  "  the  wilder- 
ness," was  considered  a  dangerous  adventure.  After 
dark,  indeed,  none  but  the  bold  dared  undertake  it,  owing 
to  the  footpads  lurking  to  waylay  the  passing  traveller. 

Louis  XI  at  one  time  tried  to  introduce  some  order 
into  this  district,  and  Olivier  le  Daim  set  to  work  and 
hanged  a  number  of  criminals  who  frequented  "  la  garenne 
de  Rouvray  "  and  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 


224      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

In  1528  Francis  I  built  the  Chateau  de  Madrid.  An 
oak  in  front  of  the  modern  restaurant  which  stands  on 
its  site  still  goes  by  the  name  of  this  long.  Louis  XIII 
hunted  hi  the  Bois,  while  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XV 
there  arose  the  Chateau  de  la  Muette. 

Later  on  the  Comte  d'Artois,  in  order  to  win  a  bet, 
caused  Bagatelle  to  be  built  in  six  weeks. 

This  charming  little  masterpiece  of  the  Louis  XVI 
style — "Parva  sed  Apta,"  as  says  the  inscription  above  its 
portals — was,  together  with  its  beautiful  park  of  twenty- 
four  hectares,  acquired  by  the  city  of  Paris  in  1904. 

The  Revolution,  besides  destroying  the  Abbey  of 
Longchamp,  of  which  the  only  surviving  vestige  is  the 
pretty  windmill  bordering  the  racecourse,  handed  over 
the  chateaux  of  Madrid  and  La  Muette  to  housebreakers. 

During  this  period  a  number  of  fugitives  trying  to 
save  their  heads  from  the  guillotine  lurked  in  the  Bois, 
among  them  the  Abbe  de  Salamon,  representative  of 
the  Pope. 

Under  the  old  regime  royalty  frequented  the  Bois, 
and  it  was  here  that  Marie  Antoinette,  having  taken 
a  fancy  to  donkey  riding,  was  thrown  by  a  refrac- 
tory Neddy  seized  with  a  desire  to  roll.  The  Queen, 
quite  unhurt,  remained  seated  on  the  ground,  laughing 
immoderately.  As  soon  as  she  could  command  her 
countenance  she  assumed  a  mock  gravity  and,  without 
attempting  to  rise  from  her  lowly  position,  commanded 
that  the  grand  mistress  of  ceremonies  should  at  once  be 
brought  to  her  side  ;  and  when  the  lady  thus  summoned 
stood,  in  no  good  temper  and  with  dignified  aspect, 
before  her,  she  looked  up  and  said :  "  Madame,  I  have 
sent  for  you  that  you  may  inform  me  as  to  the  etiquette 
to  be  observed  when  a  Queen  of  France  and  her  donkey 
have  both  fallen — which  of  them  is  to  get  up  first." 

In  long  past  days  there  was  real  sport  to  be  obtained 
in  the  Bois. 

That  charming  restaurant,  the  Pre-Catelan,  it  is  said, 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR         225 

takes  its  name  from  an  owner  of  the  Chateau  de  la  Muette 
— "  Theophile  Catelan  " — who  once  controlled  all  hunt- 
ing in  this  district. 

Not  far  away  was  the  famous  Abbey  of  Longchamp, 
founded  in  1256.  This  was  destroyed  in  the  Revolution, 
the  only  portions  which  survive  being  a  couple  of 
towers  and  the  gable  of  a  farmhouse,  together  with  the 
picturesque  windmill  on  the  outskirts  of  the  racecourse. 

The  famous  Promenade  de  Longchamp  in  the  eighteenth 
century  began  in  the  Champs  Elyse'es  and  wound  its 
course  right  athwart  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  to  the  gates 
of  the  abbey  itself.  Every  year  during  three  days 
in  Passion  Week  there  was  an  incessant  cavalcade  of 
princes,  nobles,  bankers,  "  fermiers-generaux,"  strangers 
of  distinction,  and  the  ladies  then  known  as  "  ruineuses," 
to  Longchamp.  The  equipages  of  the  grandest  dames  of 
the  Court  of  Versailles  locked  wheels  with  the  chariots  of 
La  Duthe  and  La  Guimard  and  other  frail  ones,  some 
of  whom  eclipsed  the  "  grand  Dames  "  in  splendour. 

In  those  days  horses  and  hounds  were  often  to  be 
seen  in  the  woodland  glades  of  the  Bois.  Just  before  the 
Revolution,  indeed,  the  Comte  d'Artois  ran  a  stag  out  of 
the  Bois  down  the  Champs  Elysees  and  killed  it  where 
now  begins  the  Rue  de  la  Paix. 

Even  to-day  deer  exist  in  the  thicker  parts  of  the  wood. 
Their  number,  however,  was  lessened  during  the  war, 
when  rough  characters  killed  any  they  could  get  hold 
of  for  food. 

During  the  summer  a  certain  number  of  vagabonds 
practically  live  in  the  Bois,  which  makes  it  a  dangerous 
place  after  dark,  as  they  are  always  ready  to  spring  upon 
any  belated  wanderers  out  of  the  beaten  track. 

The  green-coated  guards  who  are  supposed  to  assure 
order  have  not  had  their  number  increased  since  the  days 
of  the  Second  Empire,  consequently  the  state  of  affairs 
which  prevails  is  very  much  freer  than  in  similar  resorts 
in  England,  where  highly-paid  male  and  female  guardians 


226      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

of  propriety  are  ready  to  pounce  upon  too  amorous 
couples  from  behind  almost  every  tree. 

The  Bois  de  Boulogne  as  it  exists  to-day  may  be  said 
only  to  date  from  1853,  when  the  city  of  Paris,  besides 
increasing  its  area,  which  had  at  that  time  shrunk  con- 
siderably to  2100  acres,  made  the  two  large  lakes,  laid 
out  lawns,  and  planted  trees. 

In  addition  to  other  alterations  excellent  winding 
roads  and  drives  were  made ;  the  whole  place,  in  short, 
was  thoroughly  improved,  largely  owing  to  a  better 
system  of  irrigation. 

The  Bois  then  became  a  fashionable  resort,  where  all 
the  smart  Parisian  world  was  to  be  seen  lolling  in  fine 
carriages  drawn  by  splendid  horses. 

Before  the  days  of  the  motor  all  the  frail  beauties  of 
Paris  made  a  point  of  frequenting  the  Bois  in  the  late 
afternoon.  Those  who  could  afford  it  had  smart  equi- 
pages, while  their  less  prosperous  sisters  appeared  in  all 
sorts  of  vehicles  down  to  the  humble  fiacre. 

"  Au  Bois  de  Boulogne/"'  by  Aristide  Bruant,  described 
this  aspect  of  Parisian  life. 

"  Y'en  a  des  tas,  y'en  a  d'partout : 
De  la  Bourgogne  et  de  Poitou, 
De  Nanterre  et  de  Montretout, 

Et  d'la  Gascogne ; 
De  Pantin,  de  Montmorency, 
De  la,  d'ou,  d'ailleurs  et  d'ici, 
Et  tout  ca  vient  fair'  son  persil, 

Au  bois  d'Boulogne." 

Yvette  Guilbert  scored  a  very  notable  success  in  her 
rendering  of  this  famous  song,  the  last  verses  of  which 
arejaot^devoidjDf  the  real  tragedy  of  life  : 

"  Qa  poudroi',  ca  brille  et  ca  r'luit, 
£a  fait  du  train,  ca  fait  du  bruit, 
£a  roul',  ca  passe  et  ca  s'enfuit ! 
Ca  cri',  ca  grogne ! 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR         227 

Et  tout  $a  va  se  r  'miser,  1'soir, 
A  l'6curie  ou  dans  1'boudoir  .  .  . 
Puis  la  nuit  tapiss'  tout  en  noir 
Au  bois  d 'Boulogne." 

Passing  out  of  the  Bois  one  comes  to  the  fortified 
enceinte  of  Paris,  which  having  been  adjudged  to  be  no 
longer  useful  for  defence,  is  now  in  process  of  being 
levelled  to  the  ground. 

In  Du  Maurier's  charming  book,  "  Peter  Ibbetson,"  it 
may  be  added,  is  a  picture  of  the  hero  sitting  on  the 
ramparts  which  have  but  recently  been  built. 

Though  erected  as  recently  as  1841-45  they  are  not 
unpicturesque.  This  has  been  recognized  by  the  autho- 
rities, who  have  decreed  that  the  bastion  of  le  Point  du 
Jour  shall  be  retained  as  a  specimen  of  urban  defence 
in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Certain  portions  of  these  out-of-date  fortifications 
were  much  frequented  by  the  criminal  classes.  The 
ramparts  and  ditch  in  the  neighbourhood  of  St  Ouen,  for 
instance,  were  popular  lounges  for  the  Apaches  of  that 
quarter,  who,  on  fine  days,  went  to  the  "  les  Fortifs,"  as 
they  called  them,  to  indulge  in  dalliance  with  their  loves. 

The  affection  of  a  certain  class  of  girl  for  these  men, 
strange  though  it  may  appear,  is  often  great,  while 
a  curious  sentimentality  often  pervades  the  relations 
between  an  Apache  and  his  Marmite.  Ardent  love  letters, 
generally,  however,  containing  a  request  for  money,  are 
written  by  imprisoned  ruffians  to  their  sweethearts. 

"  Embrassons-nous,  ma  gigolette, 
Adieu,  sois  sage  et  travaill'  bien, 
Tach'  de  gagner  un  peu  d'galette, 
Pour  1'envoyer  a  ton  pauv'  chien, 
Nous  r'tourn'rons  su  1'bord  de  la  Seine, 
A  Meudon,  cueillir  du  lilas, 
Apr 6s  qu'jaurai  fini  ma  peine, 
AMazas. 

Hundreds  of  these  men  were  shot  at  the  time  of  the 


228      MAYFA1R  AND  MONTMARTRE 

Commune,  and  many  fell  during  the  Great  War,  in  which 
not  a  few  are  known  to  have  fought  with  great  bravery 
and  determination.  Nevertheless  the  Apache  remains 
a  source  of  serious  trouble  to  the  authorities. 

The  fortifications,  now  soon  to  disappear,  will  merely 
share  the  fate  of  two  former  walls  which  were  demolished 
as  Paris  grew  too  big  to  be  encircled  by  them. 

The  idea  of  this  last  girdle  of  defence  was  not,  I  believe, 
conceived  by  military  experts  but  originated  in  the  brain 
of  Monsieur  Thiers,  who  liked  having  a  finger  in  every  pie. 

Of  all  his  whimsies  there  was  none  that  had  a  stronger 
hold  on  him  than  his  desire  to  get  his  universal  com- 
petence recognized  by  everybody.  He  said  of  an  appli- 
cant for  the  post  of  director  at  the  Sevres  manufactory, 

"  He  is  no  more  made  for  that  post  than  I  am  for ," 

and  then  he  stopped.  "  Ah,  ah,  M.  Thiers,"  said  his 
interlocutor,  "  you  find  it  very  hard  to  say  what  you 
could  not  do."  "That's  the  truth,  that's  the  truth," 
said  he  gaily.  And  the  author  of  the  story  recalls  an- 
other anecdote  on  the  same  subject.  M.  Thiers  was 
saying  one  day  of  a  man  raised  to  a  high  function,  "  He 
is  no  more  suited  to  that  office  than  I  am  to  be  a  druggist ; 
and  yet,"  he  added,  catching  himself  up,  "  I  do  know 
chemistry." 

In  spite  of  his  weakness  Thiers  was  a  clever  man  and 
a  true  patriot,  whose  love  for  France  was  very  real. 

A  minor  demonstration  of  this  affection  was  that 
after  1870,  as  long  as  a  German  soldier  remained  on 
French  soil,  he  used  only  paper  with  a  deep  black  border. 

Strolling  up  the  Avenue  de  Bois  de  Boulogne  (known 
as  1' A  venue  de  1'Imperatrice  in  Imperial  days)  one  gets 
a  good  view  of  Napoleon's  magnificent  conception,  the 
Arc  de  Triomphe,  erected  in  glorious  commemoration 
of  the  Grande  Armee,  the  twelve  avenues  radiating  from 
it  being,  I  believe,  supposed  to  lead  to  all  the  capitals 
of  the  world. 

The  great  Emperor  never  lived  to  see  it  completed, 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR         229 

though  on  the  occasion  of  his  marriage  with  Marie  Louise 
a  wooden  model  was  put  up  on  the  Place  de  1'Etoile. 

It  is  in  the  rays  of  a  setting  sun  that  this  great  rose- 
coloured  gate  of  heaven,  as  Maupassant  called  it,  is  seen 
at  its  best. 

One  of  the  most  stirring  spectacles  associated  with 
this  arch  was  the  second  funeral  of  Napoleon  when  his 
coffin,  on  the  lid  of  which  lay  his  little  cocked  hat  and 
the  sword  of  Austerlitz,  swept  through  it  on  the  final 
stage  of  its  journey  from  the  Atlantic  rock  to  its  resting- 
place  beneath  the  golden  dome  of  the  Invalides. 

This  took  place  on  December  I5th,  1840.  It  was 
magnificent  weather,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  sun  of  Auster- 
litz (of  which  the  day  was  the  anniversary)  had  risen  to 
render  a  last  homage  to  the  dead  Emperor. 

Through  the  glorious  arch  were  carried  the  flags  of 
the  Allies  at  the  Peace  celebrations,  and  beneath  it 
now  He  the  remains  of  an  unknown  French  soldier. 
His  interment  there,  though  generally  supposed  to  have 
originated  in  England,  was  first  proposed  in  France  by 
M.  Andre  Paisant,  a  French  Deputy  during  the  Premier- 
ship of  M.  Clemenceau. 

Though  his  suggestion  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the 
Press  and  a  number  of  military  chiefs,  there  was  so  much 
opposition  in  certain  quarters  that  it  seemed  likely  to 
be  dropped. 

When,  however,  Great  Britain,  amidst  general  accla- 
mation, decided  to  carry  out  the  ceremony,  the  French, 
after  some  discussion,  took  the  same  course,  though 
the  religious  element  which  formed  so  great  a  feature  of 
the  English  re-burial  was,  in  order,  no  doubt,  to  avoid 
unseemly  controversy,  practically  excluded.  Another 
reason  for  this  may  be  that  the  unknown  soldier  went 
to  his  last  resting-place  in  the  same  procession  as  the  one 
which  escorted  the  heart  of  the  uncompromising  "  anti- 
clerical "  Gambetta  to  the  Pantheon.  The  body  of  the 
Great  Tribune,  however,  is  buried  at  Nice. 


230      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

When  after  Gambetta's  death  his  father  was  besought 
to  allow  his  son  to  be  buried  in  Paris,  in  the  capital  of 
his  beloved  France,  the  old  man,  with  an  obstinacy 
which  was  one  of  his  characteristics,  sent  a  curt  tele- 
gram :  "  You  had  him  while  he  was  alive  ;  now  that  he 
is  dead,  worn  out  by  your  politics,  I  wish  to  have  him. 
He  shall  rest  in  the  little  cemetery  of  Nice,  whither  his 
mother  preceded  him." 

Though  from  time  to  time  Gambetta's  claims  to  being 
ranked  as  a  great  man  have  been  questioned,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  he  possessed  an  extraordinary  personality. 

It  even  fascinated  Bismarck,  who,  learning  from  a 
correspondent  that  the  Great  Tribune  was  ailing,  wrote  : 
"  Your  Gambetta  is  burning  the  candle  at  both  ends ; 
that  is  my  opinion.  He  had  much  better  marry  and 
settle  down  in  the  country.  Tell  him  that  from  me,  for 
after  all  I  rather  like  him.  He  is  the  only  man  whose 
intentions  I  know  at  the  present  moment.  At  least  he 
and  I  know  what  we  want  and,  if  he  has  so  quickly  and 
unexpectedly  raised  up  France,  I  cannot  be  personally 
angry  with  him,  any  more  than  I  can  resent  his  mad 
dream  of  reconquering  Alsace  and  Lorraine." 

On  the  left  side  of  the  Avenue  des  Champs  Elysees, 
at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Boetie,  there  still  survives 
a  fine  eighteenth-century  mansion,  now  called  the  Hotel 
de  Massa,  which  stands  sideways  in  its  own  garden. 
This  was  built  in  1778,  and  after  many  vicissitudes  be- 
came in  1830  the  residence  of  Count  Flahaut,  aide-de- 
camp of  the  great  Emperor.  Though  ostensibly  the  child 
of  Comte  Flahaut  de  la  Billarderie,  this  gallant  soldier 
was  really  a  son  of  Talleyrand. 

The  Duke  de  Morny,  it  may  be  added,  was  the  son  of 
Flahaut,  who  notoriously  was  on  close  terms  of  intimacy 
with  Queen  Hortense.  A  gallant  soldier,  charming  man, 
and  distinguished  diplomat,  Count  Flahaut  gave  up  the 
old  house  in  1853. 

He  became  Ambassador  in  London  during  the  Second 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR         231 

Empire  and  resided  at  106  Piccadilly  (now  the  St  James's 
Club),  another  fine  old  mansion  which  was  originally 
Coventry  House. 

Count  Flahaut  married  an  Englishwoman,  and  his 
daughter  became  the  mother  of  Lord  Lansdowne,  who 
is  therefore  the  great-grandson  of  Talleyrand. 

All  the  great  personages  of  Europe  at  one  time  or  other 
passed  through  the  salons  of  the  mansion  in  the  Champs 
Elysees  or  of  106  Piccadilly,  Count  Flahaut  being  most 
popular  and  well  known  as  a  delightful  and  clever  host. 

This  fine  old  Frenchman  died  in  September  1870,  just  in 
time  to  avoid  seeing  the  Prussians  enter  his  beloved  Paris. 

Some  of  the  old  records  concerning  the  Champs 
Elysees  are  not  dull  reading. 

Frederici,  an  officer  of  the  Swiss  Guard,  who  was 
supposed  to  keep  order  there  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
on  one  occasion  reported  : 

"  Monday  evening  last  about  8  o'clock  I  arrested  an 
Abbe  with  a  negress.  He  said  he  was  acting  as  her 
confessor.  I  let  him  go  with  a  recommendation  to 
abstain  in  future  from  confessing  female  sinners  under 
the  trees  at  night." 

In  1798  four  hundred  hairdressers  held  a  meeting  as 
to  a  rise  in  their  pay ;  an  officer  of  the  National  Guard 
came  up  with  his  men  and,  after  calling  the  crowd  rebels, 
severely  wounded  one  individual,  upon  which  he  was 
disarmed  and  taken  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

Beranger  lived  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  and  many 
other  literary  men  have  had  houses  near  by,  including 
Victor  Hugo,  who  had  a  house  in  the  Avenue  Victor 
Hugo  called  the  Avenue  "  Eylau  "  up  to  the  time  of  the 
poet's  death. 

Passing  the  Rond  Point  one  comes  to  the  portion  of 
the  Elysian  fields  where  for  generations  innumerable 
troops  of  small  infantry — little  children  long  dead — 
have  played. 

The  Champs  Elysees,  indeed,  has  ever  been  full  of 


232      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

enchantments  for  the  youthful  mind.  What  frenzied 
gambling  for  macaroons  used  to  go  on  at  the  bagatelle- 
boards  !  What  a  conquering  hero  seemed  the  boy  who 
propeDed  the  ball  into  the  luckiest  hole,  or  who  struck 
the  brazen  bell,  at  the  tinkling  of  which  a  little  plaster 
statuette  of  Napoleon  the  Great  would  rise  as  if  by  magic 
from  a  silent  tomb  of  gingerbread  and  lollipops  ! 

A  prominent  figure  in  old  days  used  to  be  the  Marchand 
de  Coco — a  deliriously  exciting  beverage,  composed  of 
Spanish  liquorice  and  sassafras — dispensed  in  tin  cups 
by  a  man  who  carried  the  coco  reservoir,  a  sort  of  Chinese 
pagoda,  adorned  with  red-cotton  velvet  and  tri-coloured 
flags,  strapped  to  his  back. 

Formerly  the  gardens  here  abounded  in  nurses  dressed 
in  the  characteristic  French  costume.  Since  the  war, 
however,  their  number  has  greatly  decreased,  country 
girls  preferring  to  remain  working  on  the  land  rather 
than  come  up  to  Paris. 

The  puppet  shows,  in  which  French  children  take  so 
much  delight,  have  been  popular  for  more  than  a  hundred 
years.  In  the  eighteenth  century  "  Polichinelle  "  went 
through  his  antics  much  in  the  same  place  as  he  does 
to-day,  and  figured  in  much  the  same  scenes. 

During  the  Terror,  however,  as  a  concession  to  the 
prevailing  fashion  the  French  Mr  Punch  was  guillotined 
instead  of  being  hung. 

One  enterprising  proprietor  of  a  puppet  show,  anxious 
to  be  up-to-date,  put  on  the  assassination  of  Marat  by 
Charlotte  Corday.  Unluckily,  however,  he  omitted  to 
end  his  performance  by  an  apotheosis  of  the  "  people's 
friend."  This  was  his  ruin. 

Denounced  to  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  as 
"  Royalists "  who  had  insulted  the  memory  of  the 
"  Martyr  of  Liberty,"  he  and  his  wife  were  thrown  into 
prison,  condemned  to  death,  and  executed  on  the  gth 
Thermidor,  only  a  few  hours  before  the  fall  of  Robes- 
pierre, which  would  have  saved  them. 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR         233 

Of  the  many  Guignols  which  formerly  existed  only 
three  now  survive.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  delight- 
ful and  ancient  form  of  minor  dramatic  art  will  never  be 
allowed  to  become  obsolete. 

Quite  a  literature  of  little  Guignol  plays  exists.  Only 
recently  the  writer  witnessed  a  revival  during  "  Le  mar- 
chand  de  coups  des  batons."  This  was  very  popular  dur- 
ing the  Second  Empire,  being  full  of  fun,  life  and  vivacity. 

The  merry-go-rounds  in  the  Champs  Elysees  date 
from  before  the  French  Revolution.  The  little  wooden 
horses  were  suppressed  for  a  time  in  1777,  but  by  1820 
they  were  once  more  flourishing.  There  were  formerly 
many  more  roundabouts  than  exist  to-day,  several  of 
them  having  been  suppressed,  together  with  swings  and 
other  minor  amusements,  which  in  the  opinion  of  the 
authorities  took  up  too  much  space. 

The  goat  chaises,  in  which  babies  delight  to  drive, 
date  from  the  Second  Empire. 

In  this  part  of  the  Champs  Elysees  red-coated  High- 
landers bivouacked  after  Waterloo. 

At  that  time  all  Paris  might  have  been  called  a  hostile 
camp.  Blue-legged,  black-gaitered  Austrians,  stumpy 
men  with  pudding  faces,  were  to  be  seen  in  the  Champs- 
de-Mars  and  about  the  Arch  of  the  Carrousel.  Lord 
Uxbridge's  troopers  picketed  their  horses  in  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne.  The  Russian  headquarters  were  in  the 
Place  Vendome.  The  Prussians  held  the  heights  of 
Montmartre.  Disbanded  French  officers  abhorred  these 
foreign  invaders,  and  made  no  secret  of  it. 

In  the  Palais  Royal,  however,  the  conquerors  received 
the  warmest  of  welcomes,  and  dashing  young  subalterns 
flocked  there  to  stare  at  the  jewellers'  shops  and  the 
painted  "  sirens  "  of  the  Galeries  de  Bois  ;  to  lose  their 
money  at  the  gambling-houses,  or  be  cheated  out  of  it 
at  the  restaurants.  Waterloo  was  avenged  at  roulette 
and  trente  et  quarante,  and  by  the  sale  to  the  invaders 
of  many  thousand  bottles  of  rubbishy  champagne  at 


234      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

twelve  francs  the  bottle.  "  Rouge  gagne  !  "  "  Rouge 
perd  !  "  and  "  Garcon,  1'addition  !  "  were  sweeter  sounds 
to  the  Parisian  ear  than  the  "  Sauve  qui  peut !  "  of 
Waterloo. 

The  two  imposing  groups  of  equine  statuary  known 
as  Les  Chevaux  de  Marly,  near  the  Place  de  la  Concorde, 
were  brought  from  the  chateau  of  that  name  in  five 
hours  in  1795.  Their  transport  was  considered  a 
wonderful  feat,  and  the  waggon  used  is  still  preserved 
at  the  Conservatoire  des  Arts  et  Metiers. 

The  Place  de  la  Concorde,  which  was  finally  remodelled 
in  1858,  has  not  changed  its  appearance  for  many  years. 
Since  peace,  however,  the  figure  of  Strasburg  no  longer 
bears  the  crape  which  had  veiled  it  for  so  many  years. 

The  peace  imposed  by  the  Allies  upon  France  in  1814 
changed  the  Rue  Napoleon  to  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  which 
thoroughfare  had  been  constructed  under  the  great 
Emperor  in  1807,  through  a  portion  of  the  gardens 
of  the  disestablished  convent  of  the  Capucines,  to  serve 
as  a  new  and  stately  approach  to  the  Place  Vendome. 

The  Tuilerie  Gardens  are  full  of  charm,  and  the 
statuary,  old  and  new,  is  mainly  of  a  high  order  of  merit. 
London  can  boast  of  no  modern  statue  as  fine  as 
"  Quand  M6me,"  the  replica  of  the  monument  com- 
memorating the  defence  of  Belfort,  erected  on  the  ground 
where  the  palace  of  the  kings  of  France  formerly  stood. 

Nor  in  a  lighter  vein  have  we  anything  to  compare 
with  the  delightful  memorial  of  Perrault  near  the  Jeu 
de  Paume,  which,  by  the  way,  bears  on  one  of  its  walls 
an  artistic  memorial  of  Edith  Cavell. 

Surrounded  by  three  charming  little  girls  (who  at 
the  proper  season  are  enclosed  by  a  hedge  of  flowers), 
the  bust  of  the  good  old  teller  of  fairy  stories  smiles  at 
us  from  a  column  the  base  of  which  is  guarded  by  Puss- 
in-Boots,  who,  jaunty  and  debonnair,  wears  a  plumed 
sombrero  hat,  a  necklace  of  mice  and  a  rat  hanging 
from  his  belt. 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR         235 

I  suppose  that  this  is  about  the  only  monument  to 
a  cat  in  existence.  The  sculptor  has  been  particularly 
happy  in  the  whole  composition. 

There  is  much  good  statuary  in  the  Parisian  cemeteries. 
The  monument  "  aux  Morts "  in  Pere-Lachaise,  for 
instance,  is  a  fine  work  of  art.  In  the  same  cemetery 
is  Epstein's  unconventional  memorial  to  Oscar  Wilde. 
There  are  many  memorials  here  as  well  as  in  the  other 
burial  grounds  of  Paris  which  deserve  attention. 

To  the  student  of  the  great  French  Revolution  the 
Chapelle  Expiatoire  must  ever  be  of  great  interest. 
This  beautiful  little  chapel,  the  entrance  to  which  is  in 
the  Rue  Pasquier,  is  just  oft"  the  Boulevard  Haussmann. 
The  spot  upon  which  it  stands  was  originally  a  burial- 
ground,  dependent  upon  the  parochial  church  of  la 
Madeleine.  Here  till  their  transference  to  St  Denis 
lay  the  remains  of  the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI  and 
his  queen.  In  1793  the  ground  was  purchased  by  M. 
Descloseaux  and  converted  into  an  orchard,  in  order 
to  preserve  it  from  revolutionary  fury,  and  to  keep 
the  bodies  which  it  contained  as  a  sacred  deposit  till 
better  times.  The  places  of  the  royal  graves  were 
carefully  marked  out  by  the  proprietor,  who,  it  is  said, 
sent  annually  to  the  Duchess  of  Angoul£me  a  bouquet 
of  flowers  gathered  from  the  ground  beneath  which 
her  parents  were  laid.  At  the  Restoration  the  ground 
was  purchased  of  the  faithful  guardian,  and  the  bodies 
searched  for,  found,  and  transported  to  St  Denis  with 
the  greatest  solemnity  and  pomp.  The  earth  that  had 
contained  the  royal  coffins  was  carefully  collected  and 
placed  where  the  king  had  lain  ;  the  bones  of  all  the 
other  victims  of  the  Revolution  that  could  be  found  on 
this  spot  were  also  collected  and  placed  in  two  large 
adjacent  fosses.  Over  the  whole,  an  expiatory  chapel, 
with  suitable  buildings  adjoining,  was  erected  by  Louis 
XVIII,  Percier  and  Fontaine  being  the  architects.  A 
raised  platform  containing  the  earth  of  the  principal 


236      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

part  of  the  cemetery  is  surrounded  in  the  form  of  a 
parallelogram  by  two  covered  galleries  on  the  longer 
sides,  by  the  chapel  and  ante-chapel  on  the  shorter. 
The  chapel  is  in  the  form  of  a  cross  surmounted  by  a 
dome  in  the  centre,  and  having  the  ends  of  three  arms 
of  the  cross  terminated  semicircularly  and  capped 
with  domical  roofs.  The  fourth  arm  is  formed  by  the 
door-way  and  a  Doric  portico.  Within  are  two  statues, 
of  Louis  XVI  and  Marie  Antoinette,  each  supported 
by  an  angel ;  on  the  pedestal  of  the  former  his  will  is 
inscribed  in  letters  of  gold  on  a  black  marble  slab  ;  on 
that  of  the  latter  are  extracts  of  the  queen's  last  letter 
to  Mme.  Elisabeth.  Around  the  chapel  are  niches 
for  magnificent  candelabra,  and  bas-reliefs  with  appro- 
priate designs.  The  whole  is  finished  with  great 
simplicity  and  good  taste.  Beneath  is  a  subterranean 
chapel,  where  an  altar  of  grey  marble  is  erected  over 
the  exact  spot  where  Louis  XVI  was  buried ;  and  in  a 
corner,  about  five  feet  from  it,  is  pointed  out  the  original 
resting-place  of  the  queen. 

The  dust  of  many  prominent  revolutionists  is  here 
mingled  with  that  of  supporters  of  the  ancien  regime, 
including  Charlotte  Corday  and  the  thousand  gallant 
Swiss  guards  who,  "  faithful  unto  death,"  perished  on 
the  loth  August  1792. 

During  the  Second  Empire  there  were  many  com- 
plaints of  the  indifference  of  the  Imperial  authorities 
to  everything  that  came  within  the  domain  of  art. 

A  critic  of  the  day  said : 

"  I  presume  there  has  rarely  been  created  any  man 
so  utterly  devoid  of  the  faculties  that  are  required  in 
order  to  judge  of  excellence  in  art  as  is  Louis  Napoleon. 
And,  most  unluckily,  the  Emperor's  insufficiencies  are, 
in  this  respect,  not  made  up  for  by  any  qualities  in 
the  Empress.  I  do  not  believe  a  kinder,  better,  more 
charitable,  or  more  unaffected  person  than  Eugenie 
de  Montijo  ever  lived  or  breathed ;  but  a  more  appalling 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR         237 

instance  of  nullity  has  rarely  been  exhibited  to  the  public 
appreciation  than  that  which  is  furnished  forth  by  the 
above-mentioned  most  amiable  lady,  It  is  nullity 
everywhere — nullity  instinctive  and  intellectual,  as  well 
as  nullity  educational.  There  is  no  one  single  chord 
in  her  whole  composition  that  replies  to  anything  beyond 
her  vast  amplitude  of  starched  petticoats,  or  the  in- 
vention of  a  new  head-dress  by  Felix !  This  being  the 
case,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  of  what  use  can  be  the  '  pro- 
tection '  of  the  throne,  as  far  as  art  is  concerned." 

Attacks  upon  the  Imperial  regime  abounded  in  the 
Press  in  England  as  well  as  in  France. 

"There  is  now  so  little  to  separate  us  in  distance 
between  Paris  and  London,"  wrote  an  English  critic, 
"that  insensibly  the  recklessness  of  the  Imperial  Court 
is  finding  its  way  over  here.  The  Emperor,  everyone 
knows  who  thinks,  finds  it  useful  to  his  policy  to  encourage 
profligacy,  and  the  stage  in  France  is  only  a  reflex  of  the 
state  of  morals  in  the  capital.  Adultery  is  King  on  the 
Boulevards.  Ah !  that  sounds  too  horrible.  But  it  is 
true.  Take  up  the  first  novel  you  may  lay  hands  on,  or 
the  last  vaudeville,  and  you  will  see  for  yourself  that 
this  is  no  exaggeration.  The  ducks  and  drakes  our 
neighbours  make  with  the  conjugal  code  set  the  circles 
widening  until  they  fall  with  a  ripple  on  our  shores  and 
vibrate  into  the  heart  of  London  life." 

Even  the  charming  operas  of  Offenbach  were  con- 
sidered to  be  improper  by  the  English. 

Writing  in  1874,  Lady  Charlotte  Schreiber,  a  clever 
and  highly  cultured  lady,  then  on  a  visit  to  Paris,  said  : 
"  In  the  evening  we  all  went  to  the  Gaiete  to  see  '  Orfee 
aux  Enfers,'  with  which  I  was  utterly  disgusted ;  what 
is  to  become  of  such  horrid  exhibitions  !  I  fear  their 
example  is  contaminating  our  English  stage."  1 

To-day  the  piece  in  question  is  recognized  as  being 
perfectly  inoffensive. 

1  "Lady  Charlotte  Schreiber's  Journals,"  vol.  i,  page  315. 


238      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

The  truth  was  that  neither  nation  understood  the 
other.  The  French  view  of  England  was  at  times 
grotesque. 

From  a  piece  played  at  the  Ambigu  in  the  'sixties 
called  "  Les  Chevaliers  du  Brouillard  "  one  learnt — 

1st.  That  Jack  Sheppard  discovered  a  Jacobite  plot 
for  the  destruction  of  Westminster  Abbey  by  gunpowder. 

2nd.  That  the  Tower  of  London  is  situated  at  Greenwich. 

3rd.  That  George  I  was  in  the  habit  of  walking  about 
Newgate  disguised  as  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  and 
attended  by  "  Sir  William  Hogarth/' 

4th.  That  Jack  Sheppard  was,  in  early  youth,  the 
heir-presumptive  to  the  British  throne. 

Directly  a  monarch  is  known  to  be  partial  to  the  fair 
sex  his  real  or  supposed  love  affairs  become  the  subject 
of  universal  comment  and  exaggeration. 

This  was  the  case  with  Napoleon  III,  as  it  was  years 
later  with  Leopold  II  of  Belgium,  that  astute,  clever  but 
pleasure-loving  king  who,  it  was  said,  disliked  music, 
sport,  tobacco,  and  gloves,  but  liked  pretty  women. 

According  to  common  report  he  was  on  the  best  terms 
with  a  fair  Parisian,  Mile.  Cleo  de  Merode,  and  besides 
being  caricatured  in  the  French  press,  received  the 
rather  witty  nickname  of  "  Cleopold." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  story  goes  that  the  king  had 
never  seen  this  lady  till  being  one  evening  at  the  Opera 
he  said  to  a  famous  singer,  "  Will  you  please  introduce 
me  to  the  charming  dancer  of  whom  I  hear  so  much  ?  " 
The  tenor  looked  surprised.  "  Your  majesty  !  "  "  Cer- 
tainly," replied  the  king ;  "  I  have  never  seen  her." 
Cleo  de  Merode  was  introduced  to  his  Belgian  majesty 
and  the  king  very  simply  remarked,  "  Madam,  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you  at  last  and  to  be  able  to  express  to 
you  my  deepest  regret  if  the  good  fortune  which  is  falsely 
attributed  to  me  has  in  any  way  inconvenienced  you. 
We  are  far  from  those  times  when  the  favour  of  a  king 
did  not  compromise.  Besides,  I  am  only  a  small  king." 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR         239 

Napoleon  III  may  have  been  over-susceptible  to  the 
charms  of  the  fair  sex,  but  nevertheless  he  was  a  man  of 
intelligence  with  large  ideas. 

To  be  fair  to  him,  he  it  was  who  first  began  the  trans- 
formation of  his  capital  from  a  city  of  insanitary  if 
picturesque  slums  into  the  magnificent  Paris  it  is  to-day. 

The  narrow  streets  of  old  Paris  were  infamously  paved. 
There  was  no  foot  pavement.  The  kennel  was  often 
in  the  centre  of  the  street,  and  down  it  rolled  a  great 
black  torrent  of  impurities  fearsome  to  sight  and  smell. 
Even  in  comparatively  modern  times  there  was  no 
gas,  save  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  in  the  Palais 
Royal,  and  on  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  streets  were  lit  by  means  of  oil  lamps 
suspended  from  ropes  slung  from  house  to  house  across 
the  street. 

A  great  number  of  interesting  buildings  naturally 
had  to  fall  beneath  the  pick,  but  sooner  or  later  they  were 
doomed  in  any  case.  Baron  Haussmann  utilized  the 
sites  thus  rendered  vacant  to  raise  a  number  of  really 
fine  streets  and  boulevards  laid  out  in  accordance  with 
a  carefully  thought  out  plan.  Had  the  old  buildings 
survived  till  a  later  period  the  houses  erected  in  their 
stead  would  probably  have  been  built  in  different  styles, 
which  would  not  have  conveyed  the  dignified  impression 
which  modern  Paris  does  to-day. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  survivals  of  old  Paris  is 
the  "  Place  des  Vosges,"  formerly  the  "  Place  Royale." 
Here,  according  to  Alexandre  Dumas,  Athos,  Porthos, 
D'Artagnan  and  Aramis  fought  their  double  duel. 

In  any  case  it  is  a  locality  haunted  by  ghosts  of  the 
past,  and  one  is  thankful  that  the  effacing  finger  of 
Baron  Haussmann  allowed  it  to  remain  untouched. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  river  a  whole  quarter  was 
pulled  down  in  1860  in  order  to  make  way  for  the  Tribunal 
of  Commerce,  Hotel  Dieu,  and  Prefecture  of  Police. 

The   tortuous   streets   which   once   covered  this   site 


240      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

abounded  in  taverns  and  other  haunts  where  Francis 
Villon  revelled  with  the  ladies  whose  names  he  has 
handed  down  to  us  in  his  delightful  verse. 

Here,  too,  existed,  up  to  the  'sixties,  the  Prado,  a  famous 
dancing-hall  frequented  by  all  the  local  lights  of  love, 
most  of  whom  were  well  known  by  nicknames. 

In  all  probability  Louise  la  Balocheuse,  Eugenie 
Malakoff,  Angelina  1'Anglaise,  and  other  stars  of  this 
resort,  were  much  the  same  kind  of  girls  as  Guillemette 
la  Rose  and  her  sisters,  who  made  such  an  impression 
upon  the  mediaeval  poet's  heart. 

Though  this  part  of  Paris  has  been,  in  the  main, 
remodelled,  the  Quais,  together  with  a  number  of  old 
buildings  which  line  them,  remain. 

The  bookstalls  have  often  repaid  investigation.  In 
his  interesting  book,  "  The  Pleasures  of  the  Table," 
Mr  Ellwanger  tells  of  his  good  luck  in  this  direction. 
About  to  leave  one  of  these  stalls,  the  proprietor 
remarked :  "  Monsieur  perhaps  might  like  to  glance  at 
an  English  work,  '  sur  1'Agneau/  which  came  in  with 
some  other  volumes  recently." 

The  volume  in  question  referred,  indeed,  to  "  lamb," 
and  proved  to  be  the  excessively  rare  first  edition  of 
"  The  Essays  of  Elia  "  (London,  1823).  It  was  slightly 
foxed,  but  otherwise  in  excellent  condition,  and  con- 
tained some  marginal  annotations  in  manuscript.  On 
carefully  examining  the  handwriting,  Mr  Ellwanger 
became  convinced  it  was  that  of  Charles  Lamb — there 
could  be  no  possible  doubt  of  it.  The  only  writing  on 
the  fly-leaf  was,  "  To  W.  W.,  from  C.  L."— the  "  W.  W." 
presumably  being  William  Wordsworth. 

It  was  at  the  Quai  des  Celestins  that  the  youthful 
Napoleon  first  landed  in  the  city  which  twenty  years 
later  was  to  acclaim  him  as  its  supreme  master. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  river  the  Quai  Voltaire  com- 
memorates the  great  writer  who  died  at  No.  27,  the 
house  of  the  Marquis  de  Villette,  in  1778. 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR         241 

One  of  the  mistakes  made  during  the  Imperial  recon- 
struction was  the  undue  enlargement  of  the  open  space 
in  front  of  Notre  Dame  and  the  erection  of  the  huge 
barracks  which  face  the  cathedral's  magnificent  fa9ade. 

Notre  Dame  is  really  the  soul  and  heart  of  France, 
abounding  as  it  does  in  souvenirs  of  notable  events. 

Here,  on  the  22nd  of  March  1594,  came  Henri  IV  to 
hear  the  famous  Mass  which,  he  said,  Paris  was  well  worth. 
Here  came  the  delighted  and  astonished  Louis  XIII  to 
thank  heaven  for  an  heir  born  after  twenty-three  years 
of  marriage.  Louis  XIV  celebrated  all  his  victories 
within  its  ancient  walls,  which  at  one  time  were  so 
covered  with  flags  taken  by  the  Marechal  de  Luxem- 
bourg that  the  latter  was  called  the  Tapissier  de  Notre 
Dame. 

Here  Bossuet  pronounced  his  funeral  oration  over  the 
Grand  Conde,  and  before  its  glorious  portals,  on  the 
loth  November  1723,  the  revolutionary  mob  burnt 
priceless  missals  and  books,  while  the  Goddess  of  Reason, 
impersonated  by  Madame  Momoro,  was  enthroned  near 
the  altar  within. 

For  the  English  this  cathedral  should  have  an  especial 
interest,  for  within  its  walls  Henry  VI  of  England  was 
crowned  King  of  France. 

Lassus  and  Viollet-le-Duc  carefully  restored  Notre 
Dame  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  when  the  spire 
was  replaced  and  the  magnificent  central  doorway  given 
its  original  appearance. 

Though  in  certain  details  somewhat  drastic,  the 
restoration  may,  on  the  whole,  be  called  a  success. 

The  statuary,  some  of  it  old,  the  rest  for  the  most 
part  careful  reproductions  of  figures  which  had  decayed 
away  or  been  destroyed,  is  of  great  beauty  and  interest. 
That  surrounding  the  doorways  in  particular  is  a  delight 
to  the  lover  of  art. 

A  number  of  damaged  statues,  which  have  been  copied, 
are  at  the  Musee  Cluny. 
16 


242      MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 

As  has  before  been  said,  the  erection  of  the  barracks 
opposite  Notre  Dame  was  an  architectural  error,  the 
style  being  quite  unsuitable  to  the  site. 

A  curious  thing  about  these  barracks  is  that  the  imperial 
eagles  perched  near  the  roof  are  all  defective — the  heads, 
roughly  hacked  off  during  the  Commune,  having  never 
been  replaced.  The  statue  of  Charlemagne,  near  the 
Cathedral,  is  another  innovation  of  an  unsatisfactory 
kind. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Gothic  sacristy,  erected  on  part 
of  the  ground  formerly  covered  by  the  archbishop's 
palace,  is  not  unpleasing.  The  palace  in  question, 
which  flanked  the  river,  was  destroyed  by  a  revolutionary 
mob  in  1831.  Apart  from  its  architectural  and  anti- 
quarian interest,  Notre  Dame  has  been  rendered  doubly 
dear  to  lovers  of  the  picturesque,  by  reason  of  Victor 
Hugo's  great  romance. 

Esmeralda,  her  sinister  lover  Claude  Frollo,  together 
with  the  weird  hunchback,  Quasimodo,  are  figures  which 
will  ever  be  inseparably  connected  with  the  old  Cathedral. 
Though  the  interior  has  been  stripped  of  much  wonderful 
ornamentation  and  statuary,  owing  to  the  vandalism 
of  revolutionary  mobs,  there  is  still  a  good  deal  to 
admire. 

A  unique  and  beautiful  feature  is  the  wonderful  statue 
of  "  Notre  Dame  de  Paris,"  which  stands  against  the 
south-east  pillar  of  the  transept. 

The  work  of  some  fourteenth-century  craftsman,  the 
image  in  question  originally  ornamented  the  chapel  of 
St  Aignan,  which  has  long  ceased  to  exist. 

From  1818  to  the  period  of  the  restoration  of  Viollet- 
le-Duc  it  occupied  a  place  in  the  doorway  of  the  "  porte 
de  la  vierge." 

Its  present  position  however,  could  not  be  more 
appropriate — there  is  something  very  striking  about  the 
pose  of  the  body  and  the  expression  on  the  face. 

It  is  such  artistic  relics  of  the  past  which  cause  one  to 


THE   DEMON   OF   NOTRE    DAME 


FLUCTUAT  NEC  MERGITUR  243 

realize  the  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages,  when  the  clergy 
were  wont  to  call  in  the  aid  of  painters,  sculptors,  and 
artists  in  stained  glass  to  render  all  the  beautiful  stories 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  Thus  it  was  that  the 
cathedrals  gained  the  name  of  the  Bibles  of  the  Poor. 

Aloft  on  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame  are  perched  a  number 
of  grotesque  figures  called  "  chimeres,"  the  most  striking 
of  which  is  "  Le  Stryge,"  a  horned  and  winged  demon 
with  a  contemplative  and  contented  expression,  who, 
his  head  resting  between  his  hands,  looks  out  over  Paris. 

The  figure  in  question  has  been  immortalized  by 
Meryon,  whose  etching  shows  "  Le  Stryge  "  with  ravens 
flying  around  him,  symbolical,  it  would  seem,  of  the  dark 
and  evil  deeds  the  echo  of  which  reaches  him  from  the 
human  ant-heaps  below. 

The  tocsin  of  revolution  has  often  sounded  in  those 
uncouth  ears.  He  heard  the  "  Wacht  am  Rhine  "  sung 
by  the  victorious  Germans  on  their  triumphal  entry 
into  Paris,  and  the  "  Marseillaise  "  which,  from  French 
throats,  answered  it  from  the  other  side  of  the  river. 

Forty-four  years  later  the  nearing  thunder  of  the 
invaders'  guns  left  him  as  unmoved  as  the  triumphant 
salvo  which  in  1918  announced  the  victory  of  the  Allies. 

The  long  period  of  sorrow  and  suspense  was  over- 
to-day  "  Le  Stryge  "  broods  once  more  over  a  city  full  of 
life,  loving,  and  joy. 


INDEX 


"  ABINGTON"  BAIRD,  Mr,  140 
Absinthe,  191-193 
VAcadimie  (a  caf6),  191,  192 
Admiralty,  plans  for,  1 1 
Ailesbury.Marchioness  of,  9 ;  fourth 

Marquis  of,  19 
Albert,  Prince,  3 
Albert  Memorial,  85 
Alexandra,  Queen,  3 
Alfred  Club,  96 
Americans,  163,  165,  206,  207 
Apaches,  186,  227,  228 
Apsley  House,  90 
Arc  de  Triomphe,  228,  229 
Architecture,  Victorian,  10-12,  89 
Argyll  Rooms,  1 30 
Aristocracy,  old  English,  1 5-20,  33 
Asquith,  Mr,  30 
Astor,  Lady  (M.P.),  62 
Astor,  late  Lord,  62 


BACCARAT,   in  London,   141-144; 

in  Paris,  173-175 
Bachelor's  Club,  47 
Bal  Bullier,  217,  218 
Bal  des  Quat'z  Arts,  213 
Balfour,  Mr,  30,  44 
Bath  House,  104 
Beardsley,  Aubrey,  155,  156 
Beauties,  80-82 
Beerbohm,  Max,  35 
Belgravia,  113 
Beranger,  210,  231 
Berkeley  Square  and  its  vicinity, 

83-96,  101,  109,  114 
Berry,  Misses,  103 
Besant,  Sir  Walter,  210 
Blucher,  176,  177 
Blue  Posts,  the,  145 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  223-227 
Bolshevists,  62,  63 
Bookstalls  of  Paris,  240 
Bourdon  House,  86,  113 
Bourke,  Hon.  Algernon,  47,  48 
Bramwell  Booth,  Mrs,  42 
Brougham,  Lord,  26,  27 


Bruant,  Aristide,  184,  185,  226 
Bulwer  Lytton,  92 


CABS,  7 

Cafes,  182-185,  191-196 

Caf6  concerts,  218-222 

Cafe  des  Ambassadeurs,  218,  £19, 

221 

Camisards,  60 
Carrington  Street,  105,  106 
Casinos,  175 
Cavalier,  Jean,  60 
Chaplin,  Lord,  44 
Champs  Elysees,  231-233 
Chapelle  Expiatoire,  235,  236 
Charles   Street,    Berkeley   Square, 

92,  93 

Chat  Noir,  the,  182-185 
Chateau  de  Madrid,  224 
Chemin  de  fer  baccarat,  1 74,  1 75 
Chesterfield  House,  101-103 
Chesterton,  Mr  Cecil,  117 
Cholmondeley,  Lord,  25 
Clay,  Mr  Cecil,  151-153 
Clubs,  French,  171-174 
Clubs  in  the  past,  96,  97 
Cobden,  letter  from,  68 
Coborn,  Mr  Charles,  6 
Cockburn,  Sir  Alexander,  1 3 
Coincy  (village  adopted  by  Mont- 

martre),  208 

Continental  (supper resort),  123, 124 
Corinthian  Club,  125 
Cosmopolitan       Club       and       its 

members,  93-96 
Coventry  House  (St  James'  Club). 

106 

Cremorne,  128-130 
Crutch    and    Toothpick    Brigade, 

45,  46,  121 
ubat's,  172 
urzon  Street,  103-106 


DALHOUSIE,  Lord,  51 

Dancing  halls,  Parisian,  213-216 

246 


246 


MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 


Davies  Street,  86 
Davis,  Miss  Mary,  86 
Dearmer,  Professor,  89 
Deauville,  159,  160 
Debray,  family  of,  200,  201 
Delys,  Gaby,  146  ;   her  grave,  160 
Demi-monde  of  London,  140,  141  ; 

of  Paris,  211,212,216 
Devonshire  House,  99 
Dhuleep  Singh,  Maharajah,  51 
Dhuleep  Singh,  Prince  Victor,  52, 

53 

Dieppe,  156-159 
Distaeli,  4,  6,  55,  58,  104,  no 
Drinking,  76,  77 
Dumas,  Alexandre,  194,  195 
Duster,  Gentleman  with  a,  41,  42 


EDWARD  VII,  3,  48 
Egremont,  Lord,  16,  17 
Empire  (music-hall),  130,  131 


FARM  Street  chapel,  86 
Farren,  Nelly,  45 
Feminine  dress,  78-80 
Finderne  family,  19,  20 
Fish  dinners,  49 
Flahaut,  Count,  100,  230,  231 
Foreigners  in  England,  61-63 
Fountains,  83,  84 
Franco-German  war  of  1870,  59 


GAIETY  burlesques,  45  ;  chorus,  123 
Gambetta,  189,  203,  229,  230 
Gambling,  in  London,  141-144 
Gaming  houses  in  the  West  End, 

141-144 

Gastronomy,  71-76 
Gladstone,  28,  29 
Gosse,  Mr  Edmund,  35 
Goudeau,  Emile,  183 
Goulue,  la,  215 
Grosvenor,  Sir  Thomas,  86 
Guilbert,  Yvette,  184,  219,  226 
Guinguettes,  203 


HALF  Moon  Street,  108 
Haunted  house  in  Berkeley  Square 

88 

Hawtrey,  Mr  Charles,  107 
Hay  Hill,  101 


rlayward,  Abraham,  1 3 
rlenri  IV,  203,  241 
Higgins,  Mr  Harry,  44 
Hotels,  sporting,  144,  145 
Houghton,  Lord,  50 
Household  Cavalry,  44,  45 
Houssaye,  Arsene,  171,  181 
Huxley*  34 ;  lines  on  his  tombstone, 

Hyde  Park,  1 1 1 


L'IMPERIALE,  167 

Inge,  Dr,  31 

Irving,  Mr  Harry,  153,  154 


JARDIN  de  Paris,  218,  220 
Jerningham,  late  Mr  Charles,  37 
Jubilee  Juggins,  the,  144 


KNIGHT,  Joseph,  36 
Krantz,  Eugenie,  189,  190 


LABOUCHERE,  Henry,  26,  37 

Lansdowne,  Lord,  100,  231 

Lansdowne  House,  91,  99-101,  113 

Lascelles,  Lord,  103 

Leader,  Mr  John  Temple,  27,  28 

Leopold  II,  238 

Lewis,  Sam,  131,  145,  146 

Limmer's  Hotel,  146 

Literature  and  journalism,  34-37 

Locock,  Sir  Charles,  7 

London,  made  dismal  by  Puri- 
tanism, 1 20  ;  before  Licensing 
Act  of  early  'seventies,  121  ; 
before  the  Great  War,  71,  72  ; 
Verlaine's  opinion  of, 

Longchamp,  racecourse,  178 ; 
Abbey  of,  224,  225 

Long's  Hotel,  144 

Louis  Philippe,  King,  177, 178 


MABILLE,  215-217 
Mackenzie  Grieves,  Mr,  170,  171 
Macnab,  183 
Mallarm6,  188 
Manning,  Cardinal,  86 
Marlborough  Club,  48 
Mayfair  and  its  vicinity,  98-1 1 5  ; 
Bohemianism     in,     140,     141  ; 


INDEX 


247 


gaming    houses    of,    141,    143; 

new  influences  in,  53  ;    streets, 

98-108 

deMerode,  Mile.  Cleo,  238 
Mexborpugh  House,  98 
Mimi  Pinson,  a  modern,  2 1 1 
Mogador,  Celeste,  216,  217 
Molesworth,  Lady,  9,  10 
Mont  Valerien,  202 
Montgomery,  Mr  Alfred,  50 
Montmartre,  201-215 
Montmartroise,  la,  208 
Moore,  Mr  George,  130 
Moulin  de  la  Galette,  202 
Moulin  Rouge,  213,  214 
Mount  Street,  86 
Muntz,  Mr,  29 
Miirger,  191,  210 
Musard,  220 
Muse  of  Montmartre,  lines  to  the, 

183 

Music-halls,  130-137 
de  Musset,  Alfred  de,  192,  195 


NAPOLEON,  second  funeral  of,  229 
Napoleon  III,  176,  236-238 
de  Nerval,  Gerard,  192 
Night  life  of  London,  1 16-1 39 
Notre  Dame,  241-243 


OPERA  balls,  169,  170 
Orford,  fourth  Lord,  87 
Orleans  Club,  47 

Osborne,  Bernal,  14,  26 ;  on  female 
suffrage,  78 


PAISANT,  M.  Andre,  229 

Paiva,  la,  171 

Palais  Royal,  1 69  ;  gaming  houses, 

176,  177,  233 
Palmerston,   Lord,  5,   n,  24,   25, 

58 

Pari  Mutuel,  178,  179 
Paris,    160-243;     old,    239,   240; 

restaurants  of,  193-2.00 
Paulus,  219 

Pavilion  (music-hall),  131,  136 
Perrault,  monument  to,  234 
"  Peter  Ibbetson,"  227 
Politicians,  28-33,  :I6,  119,  120 
Portland,  Duchess  of,  8 
Portman  estate,  87 
Prigs,  14,  15 


Puppet  shows  in  Champs  Elysees, 

232,  233 
Puritanism,     36 ;      its     blighting 

influence,  41,  120,  126,  130,  131, 


Puritans  gulled, 


137 


RACE  meetings  near  London,  148, 

149 

Racing  in  France,  178-180 
Red  uniform,  66 
Restaurants  of  Paris,  193-200 
Revelstoke,  first  Lord,  92 
Rhodes,  Cecil,  4 
Rigolboche,  215 
Roller  skating,  48 
Roqueplan,  Nestor,  200 
Rothschild  family,  59,  60 
Rotten  Row,  6,  7,  49 
Rumbold,     Sir    Thomas,     55-58 ; 

misstatements     concerning    his 

origin,  55,  57 


ST  JAMES'  Club,  106,  231 

St  James's  Park,  112 

Second  Empire,  severe  criticism  of, 

236-238 
Seymour,  Lord  Henry,   178,   180, 

181 

Shepherd  Market,  105 
Sheridan,  Mrs,  62,  63 
Society,  attack  upon,  39-42 
Somers,  Countess,  50 
Spiritualism,  92 
Sport,  63 

Spyer,  Sir  Edgar,  62 
Statuary  in  Paris,  234,  235 
Steevens,  George,  35 
Supper  resorts  of  the  past,  123,  124 


TALLEYRAND,   99,    100,    180,   230, 

231 

Theresa,  219,  220 
Thiers,  Monsieur,  203,  228 
Thompson,  Sir  Henry,  1 3 
Travellers'  Club,  Paris,  171,  172 
Turf,  the,  147-151 


VAUGHAN,  Miss  Kate,  45 
Vauxhall,  127,  128 
Verlaine,  184-190,  191 
Veron,  Dr  Louis,  175,  176 


248 


MAYFAIR  AND  MONTMARTRE 


Victoria,  Queen,  2-6,  85,  146 
Victorian  ways,  68-71 
Villon,  Francois,  240 
Viollet-le-Duc,  241,  242 


WALDEGRAVE,  Lady,  10 
Walpole  family,  87 
Watts,  Mr,  94,  95 
Wellesley,  Marquis,  50,  51,  107,  no 
Wellington,  Duke  of,  2,  7,  25,  90, 
in 


Westminster  Aquarium,  1 37-1 39 
White  Horse  cellars,  146 
White's  Club,  47,  48 
Willette,  185.  207 
Women,  foolish,  39,  40  ;    French, 
165,  166  ;  pretty,  80-82 

YATES,  Edmund,  37,  216 
Yellow  Book,  writers  in,  155 

ZAEO'S  back,  137,  138 


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